Mad Maddie
by Kit-for-Kat
Summary: What's a girl to do when her business is haunted by an evil, animatronic rabbit that smells like dead squirrels and has a penchant for late-night infomercials? AU HORROR/FRIENDSHIP Warning: Language, Strong Violence/Gore, and lots of Laughter! NO Romance! Can't handle? Do not read! [Disclaimer: I do not own any FNAF characters. Only Maddie.]
1. Prologue

**This is an AU. You will notice that Springtrap's background is going to sound different from the canon version, but since canon is already so vague, I've taken what I could from the game and combined it with pieces of others theories to fill in plot holes and gaps. Welcome to my world! Muhahaha!**

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Prologue

Springtrap peeked from around the corner into one of the many decrepit hallways. His eyes pinpointing the security camera perched on the far-right corner that moved back and forth every few seconds.

He could feel a sense of excitement coursing through the wires of his robotic body as he waited for the camera to turn away from him again. He was so close! Just a few hallways to the security room where his prey awaited him . . . probably terrified . . . probably shaking in his chair and sweating profusely. That delicate, little, human heart pounding against his chest as he searched desperately for him over the security's video system.

Two seconds passed, and the camera turned away. Springtrap bolted down the hall, pausing at the next hall to meet up with yet another camera; this one was pointing directly at him.

Springtrap growled when he heard the familiar sounds of a child's laughter echoing from the hallway out of which he had just come. His body automatically started fighting him, the limbs straining to follow the happy noise. He clenched his metal teeth as he resisted the urge. He refused to go back now! He was running out of time and, considering how long it took him to get back to where he was now, he would never make another go around.

He took a step back.

This was ridiculous! He _knew_ there was no child there! It was Balloon Boy's stupid laughter on recording, but the damned suit didn't seem to understand the difference and it was nearly impossible to ignore its programing. He didn't want to think about what happened once the clock struck six. He hated the idea of being helpless for another day!

He had to give this new Security Guard credit, though. He had kept this night from being _completely_ boring. He could almost consider this a challenge . . . Almost. Springtrap suppressed the urge to shout his frustration as his left foot stepped back next. His rusted joints whined and groaned as he fought the pull of the programming.

"Come on . . . _Come on_. Make a mistake, damn you!"

As if his little chant had been heard, yellow, emergency lights began to flash and an alarm screeched through the sound system, muffling the enticing laughter enough that Springtrap could retake control of his automated body once more. The red, blinking light atop the camera shut off and the machine slumped in its position, indicating that the new guard had stopped tracking him in order to go tend to the ventilation system. Here was his chance . . .

His mechanical body his once more, Springtrap leapt forward, stomping down the few hallways left that separated him from his prey, running past the last cameras without worry. His excitement morphed to an almost human-like joy, at least a twisted version of emotion, anyway. So little of his humanity remained after being cursed to the hell of an after-life, confined to the rusted ruin of an animatronic rabbit, no less. The emotions he did feel were limited to anger and hatred most of the time, and feeling something, _anything_ , different lifted him out of the pit of his despair and he clung to it, desperate for more.

Even if that meant he became the murderer he was once accused of being.

Springtrap glanced through the doorway to discover Foxy leaping on the new guard. The man was young, in his early twenties, with brown, curly hair and matching brown eyes. He was wearing that familiar blue uniform and false badge, and screamed more like a woman than a man. Springtrap grimaced, ears flattening on his head at the high-pitched sound. Foxy immediately vanished just inches from the guard's face.

Taking his cue, Springtrap stepped into the room and stopped a couple of feet from the coward. _Pathetic_. It took a few moments before the guard finally had the courage to remove his hands from his face. When he did, the guard's eyes widened in terror; his skin, already pale to begin with, lost what was left of its color. It made him wonder if the guard would pass out before Springtrap could reach across and grab him. Screaming, the guard scrambled backward, stumbling over his chair and backpedaling into the far wall. The man's desperation to get away from him made this moment all the sweeter.

Inside of his mind, Springtrap grin was a frightening parody of the one that was designed onto the animatronic's face. He stepped forward and grabbed the spinning, desk chair, throwing it across the room. It knocked the computer console from the desk and crashed against the wall, leaving holes in the drywall. At the violence of the act, the guard appeared to shrink in upon himself. Springtrap stalked the whimpering man with laser-like focus.

Trapped, the man withdrew his flashlight from his belt and held it out in front of him threateningly . . . as if that would keep him safe.

"Y-You stay the hell away from me! You . . . You . . . whatever you are!"

Springtrap paused, rolling his glowing, red eyes. Wasn't it obvious? Why was it so difficult for some to figure out what he was? You'd think the ears . . . well, ear and a half, would give it away, not that it mattered. The man wasn't going to live long enough to retell the tale.

In a movement too quick for the guard to avoid, Springtrap grasped the man's wrist and twisted. The fragile joint snapped all too easily in the grip of his metal hand. The sickening snap was followed by a moment of shocked silence, the guard's mouth opening and closing like a fish as he choked on his horror. Finally, a pain-filled shriek filled the air as the guard yanked his ruined hand away, cradling it against his heaving chest.

Springtrap examined his newly-acquired flashlight, and then the now-sobbing human. Raising the flashlight above his head, the robotic rabbit smashed it down on the top of the man's skull. The shrieks ceased instantly as the guard collapsed, unconscious, at Springtrap's feet, blood rushing from the head wound and pooling beneath the man's body.

As if in a trance, or maybe caught up in a glitch in his programming, Springtrap raised the makeshift weapon again and again, hammering it down upon his hapless victim. Lifting the flashlight up and slamming it down over and over, again and again. He didn't stop until brain matter started sticking to the flashlight. It was flung onto the walls and onto his rabbit head. Blood was splattered across his legs, chest plate, and arms. The pool of red spreading out as the guard's body emptied itself of its life source, the blood seeping sluggishly now that the heart no longer beat.

Straightening up, the flashlight slipped from his quaking fingers, clattering on impact with the floor tiles. Tiles, Springtrap noticed, was superior to carpet in that it cleaned up with less effort. The floor was riddled throughout with drains, making cleanup a breeze with the firehoses place conveniently at regular intervals in hallways and rooms. Cocking his head, he considered this some of his finest work. His mechanical eyelids slid closed as a wave of satisfaction and fulfillment crashed through him.

He had done it! He had killed the latest night guard and, he glanced at the clock on the wall, with plenty of time to spare. It was only . . . Five-thirty am.

Switching his attention to the body at his feet, Springtrap grasped the ankles and lifted it aloft, the better to drain the last of the meddlesome liquid. Blood could be so messy, leaking out from under doors and through drywall or ceiling tiles at the most inconvenient moments. The body's arms flopped down, the hands lying in the puddle of gore. When he was sure the last of the blood was gone from the body, Springtrap tossed it aside. It was still a mess but shouldn't leave a trail.

He pulled the nearby fire hose from its perch in the wall and turned the wheel, releasing the water. He sprayed the majority of the blood down the drain in the center of the room before turning the rush of water onto the body, cleaning much of the gore and washing it all away. He was satisfied with the results. He would hide the body, and if anyone looked, nothing truly damning would be left. Sure, it was obvious that something had happened here, but with no body, any inquiries would dwindle away to nothing in short order. At least, that is how it happened over the last few decades and with countless other guards.

Groping the shoulder, he rolled the guard onto his back. The body flopped much like a dead fish might. Springtrap's eyes fixated onto the name tag. The print unrecognizable thanks to the blood that still stained it. _Good_. He didn't want to know the name, didn't want to know anything about this kid's life or the people that would miss him. Nevertheless, curiosity got the better of him.

Before he picked the guard up and against his better judgement, Springtrap tentatively reached for the name tag, tearing it off the wet shirt. His thumb swept away what was left the crimson stain, enough so that he could make out the letters.

 _Cody Peterson._

What a stupid name . . . Fit for a dull, colorless, bland sort of person.

 _Cody_. The kid should have thanked him from ending his pitiful life so soon. He tossed the nametag into the metal wastebasket with a small clang. _The kid_ . . . The guard hardly looked as old as Springtrap had been when death had come for him.

 _A kid_ . . . _He was just a kid_.

An overpowering feeling of sorrow and anger drowned out his victorious, happy glow; hatred sweeping through to take its place. It boiled within him. Hatred for himself, hatred for his life, and an unbelievable amount of hatred for his father.

It was _all_ his father's fault that he was here right now, trapped in this cursed existence, doing the things he was doing because, before, he would never have killed anyone . . . and, he would _never_ have liked it so much. He had been a good person back then! Or, at least he liked to think so. He had never insulted anybody, never hurt anyone . . . not until his father decided to butt into his life again.

Growling, Springtrap stared down at the headless body, half of him expecting the guy to pop back up, grow a new head, and waltz right out of there. In his mind, what was left of it, he sneered, or tried to. His facial expressions were limited to few the creator's unimaginative, mechanical engineering could manage. The wool and metal mask consistently refused to bend to his desires, instead, it continued to grin that same stupid grin.

"What are you even doing here?" He muttered angrily to the body. It was no surprise that he got no response. Now, that would have made for an exciting end to his night, wouldn't it? But either of them would be so lucky.

"No amount of money could be worth coming here. Didn't you realize that no one has ever finished their shift working here? Why would you think you could? You idiot!" Springtrap yelled with his mechanized voice, kicking the body away from him.

The body rolled a couple of times before flopping onto his stomach. Springtrap's hands curled into fists and, slowly, he counted to twenty, his temper easing somewhat. He backed up a step, picked up the chair he had thrown, and sat heavily. The damaged piece of furniture groaned under the weight of several hundred pounds of metal and wires. He tapped a finger against the cheap, metal desk as he stared thoughtfully at the body.

He wasn't going to stash this one as he had done to the rest of the bodies. No, he decided, _this one_ was going to remain out in the open for the owners to find in the morning.

"Maybe then," he growled, "people will stop coming here."

Springtrap was aware once the police got involved, there would be no saving this place. Too many missing persons, and now a murder to top it off. _No one_ would want it. They'd tear the cursed building down or leave it to rot. One or the other, he didn't care; he just wanted to be left alone. He wanted to sleep forever.

Resolved, he stood up and turned his back on Cody Peterson. Walking out of the room, Springtrap retraced his steps. The hallways were now quiet, empty of any supernatural activity as he made his way back to the safe room where he had started off the night. He shut the door behind him, preventing any light from penetrating the room.

Slumping against the wall, Springtrap allowed his body to slide down to the concrete floor, scraping the wall as he did so. His eyes drifted closed, but he remained aware until his curse took back over control of his suit. He didn't know why this worked the way it did, but he had no choice but to learn to ' _live_ ' with it.

 _Live_. . . He snorted, an odd sound when created through his mechanized voice-box. It might have made him laugh had he actually been alive to hear the animatronic make it. Somehow, it just wasn't as funny when the noise was coming from you.

Like weights pinning him down, the curse took over. He couldn't lift a finger now, even if he wanted to.

Six o'clock had arrived.

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 **Reviews appreciated!**


	2. Dreams Do Come True

**Warning: Mild Language**

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Six months later . . .

"Oh my God! It's perfect!" Madeleine Ward yelped as she swerved her steering wheel to the right and just barely avoided scraping her Volkswagen Beetle's tire on the curb of the side walk.

"Whoa! Easy, babe!" Her passenger shouted at her alarmed.

The burly, blonde, green eyed man grabbed instinctively for the 'oh-shit' handle above the window while his other hand pressed against the dash. She ignored his exclamation, returning her attention to the large commercial building currently surrounded by a chain link fence and several large, yellow construction vehicles. She saw bulldozers, a crane, and . . . _Oh, no_!

"Ms. Ward? Ms. Ward! What is it? What's perfect?" A tinny voice screeched through the speaker of her phone.

Madeleine's heart lurched as she spotted the wrecking ball dangling precariously near the building of her dreams.

"No!" She cried, pressing her foot on the gas.

She jerked her little Beetle across two lanes of traffic and into the turn lane, ignoring the blaring of horns from a menagerie of annoyed drivers, and swung her vehicle into the gated opening of the fence. Slamming down on her brakes, she stopped in the center of the construction site, causing many of the workers to halt what they were doing in order to ogle the crazy newcomer.

Madeleine hopped out of the car, still ignoring her boyfriend's rain of questions. She waved her arms at the construction workers in an effort to stall the demolition.

"Stop! _Do not_ hurt that building!" she shouted.

"Hello? Ms. Ward? Talk to me! What's going on?"

The feminine voice that crackled through the speaker of her phone reminded her that she had been talking to her real estate agent. She raised a finger up to silence the foreman who was ambling towards her.

"Yes, Elaine. I found the place I want. Meet me at this address . . . Um, what street are we on?" she asked the construction worker in front of her.

The foreman wore the traditional yellow, plastic helmet and the orange vest associated with his job over his blue and black-checked, flannel shirt and dirt-stained jeans. Madeleine scrunched her nose in distaste as she watched the man chew his wad of tobacco, the juice from it staining part of his red goatee brown when he spat.

 _Ew . . . gross_.

"Ma'am, you can't be on this property right now. There's a demolition going on and we cannot have you . . ." he tried to tell her.

Madeleine interrupted him, pinning the fellow with a hard glare; her voice was firm and unyielding. "I'm sorry, but there will be no more demolition today. Now, you were going to tell me the address here?"

"B-But . . ." He took off his hat to run a hand through his sweaty hair.

"Address! Now!" She barked at him, snapping her fingers in front of his face. _Was he always this slow_? _This was the third time she had been forced to ask him for a simple address_.

Madeleine smiled at him, patting the man on his chest for a reward once he had finally rattled off the address to her. She quickly repeated it to her agent on the line.

"Did you get that? Oh, good. I'll see you in a few minutes!" She snapped her phone closed and stuffed it in the pocket of her slacks.

She looked back at the foreman currently towering over her. He didn't appear to be as happy as she was and found herself wondering if his blood sugar was low. Low blood sugar could make a person crabby. Madeleine tugged out a roll of Lifesavers and offered him one.

"No, thank you, ma'am . . ." he said, a little startled by her sudden cheerfulness after snapping his head off.

"Are you sure? It would make you feel better," she said. "Lifesavers always make me happy . . . particularly those yellow ones. You know, the lemon-flavored ones! That zing can really wake you up when you're feeling a bit down."

Madeleine glanced at the open end and saw a yellow one was next. "Oh, wait!" she said, plucking the tiny, candy circle free and popping it into her own mouth. "That one's my favorite," she smiled, talking around the candy. She saw that red was next in line and thrust the roll forward again. "Have a cherry Lifesaver? You look like a cherry Lifesaver kind of guy."

The foreman ignored the candy and bent his head, spitting tobacco juice in the dirt near her boots. She chose to ignore his rudeness and introduced herself before he could ruin her mood. That couldn't be allowed to happen because it would be a complete waste of a lemon Lifesaver.

"The name's Madeleine Ward . . . and you are?" She raised her hand politely.

Spurning her introduction, he returned to the matter at hand. "Ma'am, I'm afraid that it is too dangerous for you to enter a construction site without the proper safety equipment . . ."

"You mean, one of those helmets?" _Oh, he's worried about my safety. How sweet_! She decided to forgive his rudeness.

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded, opening his mouth to continue.

"Where can I get one of those?" she interrupted once more, pointing at his hat.

He sighed. "At the construction office," he said, pointing behind her. "But ma'am, look, I need you to listen . . ."

But Madeleine was already heading over to the trailer that they brought onto the site at the beginning of the process. She ducked inside as the foreman eyed the tall man climbing incongruously out of the tiny car. She was out of the office in record time, yellow helmet already on her head. He wondered what she had said to Cindy for the secretary to have given her a hard hat so quickly.

He looked at the guy as he neared. "Is she always like this?"

He smirked. "Sometimes even worse," he joked.

"Here I am." Madeleine beamed at him. "Looks good, doesn't it? I like the bright color. Makes me think of sunshine."

"Ms. Ward, I'm afraid that I can't allow you on these premises without the owner's say so."

Madeleine waved away that issue, cheerfully. "Oh, don't worry about that. My real estate agent is contacting him." She stopped by her boyfriend. "I see you've met Roger."

Roger threw an arm around her shoulders and offered the construction foreman his hand. "Roger Strickland,"

"Keith MacGregor, at your service. You can call me Mac," the foreman answered, taking the hand. "Are you two . . .?"

"Roger's my . . . um," she hesitated.

"Boyfriend," Roger inserted here. "Sweetheart, what's going on here. I think I might have whiplash after the way you took that turn in here."

Madeleine's smile widened in her excitement. "I'm going to buy this building," she declared.

"This dump?" Roger's brow furrowed as he looked at the crappy shape the building was in. "Come on, babe, you can do better than this place."

Mac choked on his tobacco juice. He shoved his hard hat back on his head, looking back over his shoulder at his demo project. "He has a point, there, ma'am."

Madeleine sniffed, her eyes rolling. "That's only because you have no imagination, Roger. I look at this and see all of this amazing potential."

"A potential fire hazard, you mean. Tearing this place down would be the only way to improve it." Roger snorted. "Madeleine, if you want to spend money, I can think up dozens of better ways to do it than wasting it on this money pit."

Madeleine glared. Although, she would be lying if she said this place wasn't a complete eyesore, everything was fixable. It just needed some curb appeal to look better from out here. Graffiti covered much of the walls and trash was everywhere, weeds were growing through the cracks in the parking area. A splash of paint, some new asphalt over the parking lot, maybe a little landscaping, and this place would look fantastic!

Roger laughed, the sound of it was beginning to grate on her nerves. Roger made certain that she was aware of his opinion of her plans for her inheritance. He often forgot that little aspect . . . It was hers and not his to spend or invest. This had been her dream for years now and, with or without his blessing, it was going to happen. Other than accompanying her to visit potential properties, the man hadn't offered to help her. In fact, there had yet to be anything constructive come out of his mouth since she shared her ideas with him.

It was more than just annoying Roger that had made her stop here. Madeleine had this thing for old buildings. Sure, they needed a ton of work both inside and out, but underneath the grime and damage, were architectural treasures you couldn't get in a new building. That kind of character wasn't being built anymore. There were stories that these beauties had to tell and Madeleine wanted to hear what they had to say.

But this building had a history, one she was excited to discover for herself. What secrets would these walls hold? Call it a gut feeling, but Madeleine was anxious to learn all of them. And Roger could just suck air if he couldn't get behind her in this adventure.

"So, are we just going to stand here?" Roger griped.

Madeleine smirked at the sound of his weariness. They'd been out looking at properties all day and only now had been heading home when Madeleine had seen this gem.

"If you're too tired, you can wait in the car," she told him. Finding the right property had infused her with renewed energy. She couldn't wait to see the inside.

Roger sighed heavily but stayed planted by her side, rather like an immense oak tree, much to her surprise. MacGregor shifted his weight but hung out with them as if he expected Madeleine to go running off into the demolition site if he turned his back. He looked annoyed.

"How long do you think this thing here is going to take," he asked. "My crew's on the clock."

"I'm not leaving until my realtor gets here," Madeleine informed him. "But you'll be happy to know she's on her way."

The foreman scratched the back of his neck. "Can't say that makes me happy. Time is money, and we're on a schedule. This will put us behind and that will make us late for our next job."

"Well," Madeleine said, "You'll make up the time since you won't be finishing up this job. But I might retain your services with some of the cleanup." She looked around the site, wrinkling her nose. "Your crew made a bit of a mess."

MacGregor snorted. "It was a demolition," he reminded her. "It's supposed to get messy. Then, later, we haul it all away. I'm going to have to call the owner, you realize."

"Do what you have to do," Madeleine waved a hand as if granting him permission.

MacGregor rolled his eyes as he fished his phone out of his pocket. Thankfully, Elaine's black sedan turned into the construction site and parked next to Madeleine's Volkswagen Bug with its awesome, customized detailing even as he punched in the numbers. The sleek car looked utterly boring beside the mint-green vehicle with its amazing, custom, fuchsia and black zebra-striped fenders.

She smiled happily at the classy stylings of her baby.

Madeleine's attention switched to Mrs. Elaine Reynolds, a tall, slender black woman who was her realtor, as she exited her car. The woman towered over Madeleine's shorter stature and had a long mane of raven-black hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. Elaine was wearing an olive-green, ruffled blouse, tucked beneath a tan, belted, pencil skirt, and matching heels. Although, while Elaine was one of the best realtors in town, Madeleine wondered if her outfit was suitable to enter the condemned building. Either way, she trusted the other woman to get her exactly what she wanted.

Elaine spotted Madeleine immediately and smiled warmly at her, starting towards her, her phone still in her hand. Unfazed by her next choice of property. Though, knowing her, she had probably already seen the place during her quick research on it right after her call.

Madeleine met her halfway. She extended her hand in greeting, exclaiming excitedly, "Elaine, were you able to get ahold of the owner? Is he interested in selling? Will we be able to tour it today?"

"Hello again, Ms. Ward," Elaine smiled smoothly as if she hadn't just spent hours with Madeleine already. "That would be a yes, possibly, and yes," she laughed, answering all of the questions Madeleine had just rattled off.

"How many times must I insist, Elaine; call me Madeleine, or Maddie, if you like," Madeleine told her. "I'm so sorry for dragging you out again today, but I saw it and it was perfect, but they were getting ready to demolish it. Time was of the essence," Maddie told her. "It might not have been here in the morning."

"As a matter of fact," Elaine held out her phone to the foreman. "Keith MacGregor? I have the owner on the phone now." The realtor sent Madeleine a knowing smirk.

As MacGregor took the phone, his face morphed into surprise as he glanced back at the two women huddled together and talking furiously. "Yes, Sir. I understand, sir. As long as you realize that this will slow us down considerably . . ." He nodded despite knowing the person on the other side wouldn't be able to see it. "It's your call and your wallet. Nothing had been done yet that isn't irreversible should the deal go through."

The foreman handed Elaine her cell phone back. "Alright. We'll need to get you a hardhat like Ms. Ward, and then you'll be able to tour the site."

Elaine followed him towards the office. "Is it safe?"

Mac looked back at her. "You might be wishing for a pair of boots before you're done, but as long as you wear the hardhat, you should be fine."

A minute later, Elaine exited the construction office with another of those yellow hardhats perched precariously on her head. Mac kept a hand on her elbow to prevent the woman from tripping or twisting an ankle in her high heels.

When they reached Madeleine and Roger, Elaine said, "The owner was very surprised by your interest. It had been on the market for months, but felt he would get a better response if it was simply bulldozed and sold the land. But if you're interested in the structure itself, he will halt the demolition until you've seen it. You have until tomorrow evening to make a decision," Elaine told her as she dug through her purse.

Madeleine's eyes lit up when she withdrew the keys. She gave a little squeal. "You mean we can have a look right now?"

"Of course, we can," Elaine laughed.

Mac heaved a sigh. He turned and waved to his men. "You got the rest of the day and tomorrow off," he yelled to them. Several of the men slumped; they needed the job. He was about to make their day, however. "Think of it as a paid vacation," he told them. "Back here day after tomorrow at 6 a.m. sharp!"

Elaine was unlocking the front door to the sounds of whooping in the background. "At least they get to leave happy," she told Maddie. "You might be shouldering some of their pay in the price of the property."

"Is the price really high?" Madeleine asked.

Elaine shook her head. "Well within your budget, my dear," she assured her. Of course, there were reasons for the great price, something that Elaine, as a realtor was required by law to disclose to her client. "Before we begin, I'm required to tell you that the businesses here have been riddled with troubles. There have been several unsolved murders committed here as well as a large number of people that have gone missing. Foul play has been suspected in those cases but no one was ever charged, one as recently as six months ago." Elaine looked at her client seriously. "This could affect the success of any business that you try to establish as well as make it difficult for you to sell the property later on."

Roger frowned. "What are you saying? This place is . . . like, cursed or something?"

Madeleine rolled her eyes. "There's no such thing as curses. If the place works out, I'll make certain to upgrade the security," she assured both of them. "It could be good for business, though. People are fascinated by ghost stories and often flock to places that are rumored to be haunted." She laughed.

The foreman caught up with them at that point. "I should probably tour the place with you. There are several places that could be dangerous." At their startled looks, he went on to explain, "Hanging fixtures, exposed wires, trash and debris that are tripping hazards. Can't have either of you hurting yourselves while wandering a condemned building, now, could we?"

Roger snorted. "Law suit hazards, you mean."

Mac shrugged. "Can't blame the man. Lots of bad things attached to this place already. The owner doesn't want more added to it."

"Well, if you've got Mac, then you won't need me," Roger announced with more excitement than he'd had all day. "I'll wait in the car," he told Madeleine. "Try not to trip and break something, hm? That's all this day would need to make it complete, for us to spend the night in the emergency room."

Madeleine had no problem with that plan. Roger would have been a drag, pointing out every dent and ding in the place. She and Elaine would have a much better time doing this without him.

"We won't be long," she promised agreeably. As Roger walked off, Maddie peered inside the darkened entry. "It's awfully dark in there. Does the building have lights?"

Mac slapped a hand to his forehead. "Electricity has been turned off. Hang on. It will only take a second. The panel's just around the corner." He was back in just a couple of minutes. "We're good to go," he told them.

Elaine finished opening the door and stepped back. "After you then," she said, waving Madeleine in front of her.

"Watch your step," Mac warned from behind as he brought up the rear.

Madeleine grinned, anticipation thrumming through her as she stepped through the entrance. She gasped as her eyes took in the condition. The room wasn't as large as she'd hoped but she wasn't above knocking down a few walls to get what she wanted. She already knew that she would have to renovate any place she bought. There was already money allotted to it, in fact. But as she looked around at the damaged walls, sagging and stained ceiling, and floor that was missing a tile here and there, it was everything she had dreamed of and more! Clearly, it needed a lot of work done if what she saw here was evident throughout the entire building, but once you got passed the grime, exposed pipes, and broken glass, it was perfect!

Elaine wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Oh, my Lord, what is that odor? It smells as if something died in here!"

"Something probably did," Mac commented, kicking a 2x4 out of their way. "This place has been empty for six months, at least. Animals probably got in here through one of the broken windows. Could be a raccoon that climbed in and couldn't find its way out. There are a few of those pests that roam around the area. The trash from the neighboring restaurants attract them," he explained.

Madeleine laughed. "It smells like the sweet scent of success to me!"

Elaine looked at her worriedly. "Oh, honey, are you sure? From the looks of things, this place is going to be a total gut job. That's a lot of work!"

"I'm not adverse to a little work," she smiled at the other woman.

The location was superb! Plenty of off-street parking and close to other successful businesses and better yet, it was near a public high school and there was a middle school just around the corner. Perfect demographics for a brand-new theater that would provide a safe haven for after school kids and keep them off of the street!

Elaine frowned. "The walls are painted black . . . but I guess that would make sense, all considering . . ." she muttered.

Madeleine shook her head. "No, just a dark gray. Nothing a couple of coats of paint couldn't cure." Her enthusiasm was ramping up rather than dimming.

"Well then, shall we begin the tour?" Elaine moved towards the door leading into the rest of the building.

Madeleine didn't need to be told twice "So, what's the story behind this place?" she asked.

"The owner hadn't given me much detail other than there had been a series of murders years ago, and then, once again with the death of a security guard six months ago. However, I did do a quick search on the internet and found out that this place used to be a restaurant franchise way back in the day."

"How way back is that?" Mac asked curiously.

"Sometime in the seventies, I believe. It was called Fredbear's Family Diner, then." Elaine told them.

Madeleine looked at the other woman as Elaine picked her way carefully through a pile of broken masonry in her high heels. "Do you know why it closed down?"

The realtor shrugged. "No one really knows. The owner kind of announced it out of the blue sometime around 1993. I've never heard a reason being attached to it. Maybe he was wanting to retire?"

"So, what happened with the business afterward?"

"Someone else bought it from him. Changed it into a pizzeria and the name to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, but they had continued with the basic theme."

"Theme?" Madeleine asked, turning a corner into yet another hallway. She wondered how long the hallways were.

"Animatronics. They provided the entertainment for the children that came there. They were programmed to sing and play music."

"Oh, how exciting!" Madeleine smiled as she pictured it. "You know, I tinkered a bit with robotics when I was in a summer program back in high school." She looked around wistfully. "I wish there were still some of them around. I bet I could get them cleaned up and working again in no time." She wished she had had a place like that when she was a kid. Maybe then she would've had her best friend with her here today.

Elaine smiled uncertainly. "I always thought they were kind of creepy, myself."

When they came to the first door off the hallway, Madeleine stepped into it. It was small and not exactly impressive, but Madeleine already had possibilities scheming through her brain. Storage, maybe? A small office? If nothing else, she could gut the building and start from scratch. Then, her eyes landed on what appeared to be an animal head that hung from the wall.

She flicked the light switch a couple of times before realizing that the bulb was missing. She looked behind her at Mac. "Do you have a flashlight on you, by any chance?"

The foreman nodded. He remembered that there were a lot of places in the building without lights. He handed his over.

Madeleine turned the flashlight on and passed it over the animal head. It looked kind of like a fox, but had a patch over one eye . . . kind of like a pirate. _Cute_! She smiled, charmed.

"I assume that this is one of the animatronics?" She asked Elaine over her shoulder.

"Yes," the realtor confirmed for her. "There are at least four of them that I know of. I believe that one is called Foxy."

 _How apropos. Could have been a little more original, though_ , she thought with a smirk as she walked over to it. Her fingers brushed the tip of his nose. She wondered how she might use him as she became further enamored with the property with each passing moment.

"Let's see the rest of the building," Elaine urged her.

Reluctantly, Madeleine stepped away from the head piece. She turned her thoughts back to planning the renovations as she continued down the hallway. "So, what happened to Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria?" She asked, resuming their previous conversation.

Elaine grimaced. "I'm afraid the pizzeria was only opened for a little over a year before parents started contacting the police saying their children had gone missing. Five of them in total had last been seen in the pizzeria."

Madeleine frowned. _How horrible_. "Did they ever find them?"

"No, nor the kidnapper. Eventually, after so much time had passed with no leads or evidence, the case went cold and the children were declared dead."

A deep, burning anger boiled up inside of her for the kidnapper. After all this time, it was likely that those children were indeed dead now. How terrible for the parents, however, to never know for sure. Had one of them been her child, she knew she would not have let one rock go unturned until she had found him or the bastard that took him.

"Surprisingly, though, that wasn't what shut down the pizzeria," Elaine continued.

"It wasn't?"

"No. It was some hygienic issue with the animatronics. People had complained to the county's health department that a sickeningly sweet smell was coming from them, so they shut them down."

"Huh?" Strange. Madeleine never heard of a robot smelling bad. Maybe one of the kids had shoved some pizza inside one of the joints or some other opening. "So, what happened after that?" she asked.

"Most of the animatronics were reported as scrapped and supposedly been sold for parts," Elaine went on. "The pizzeria was sold but, this time, the new owners decided to use the building's history into consideration and remodeled it into a horror attraction. I suspect that much of the deterioration we're seeing here might have been part of the 'décor'. It is rather unsurprising that it didn't go over like the owner had hoped. It seemed in bad taste to use the tragedy that happened here to make a profit. But, again, that isn't what shut this place down in the end."

Madeleine frowned. " _More_ disappearances?"

"Yes, although this time it was security guards who vanished, not children, but what sealed the building's fate this time was murder," the realtor said.

"Murder?" Maddie exclaimed.

"You know, might not be my business to say," Mac interjected here, "but I agree with the owner this time. The building seems to be cursed." He looked sympathetically at Madeleine. "You may want to consider that before buying this place. A lot of bad stuff has happened here."

Elaine sighed. "This place does seem to be something of a bad luck magnet. The place didn't even get to open, however. Numerous guards were hired as night watchmen, but after only a night or two, each one would disappear. None of them quit, though. They didn't even pick up their paychecks. The police were beginning to suspect foul play. I mean, the chances that four men would just up and leave everything behind are ridiculously low. But then, a body of a guard was found about six months ago. I heard that the family opted for a closed casket funeral." She shook her head sadly.

Madeleine stopped in front of a large interior window. Inside was an old desk, an empty paper waste basket and, in the far corner, a cardboard box filled with more head pieces like the one belonging to Foxy. A few children's drawings of the animatronics hung on the wall next to posters. The tiles were dirty and in bad repair; the wall had holes punched into it in one place, but Maddie felt a thrill go through her despite that.

The door still had police tape across it. Madeleine removed it and stepped into the large space. The room itself, she thought, was an impressive size and would be perfect for an office. It could even look homey if she replaced the filthy, damaged tile with some new carpet and added a new festive color for the walls.

"This is a fantastic space!" she grinned, imagining herself working here.

Elaine blinked, startled. "Haven't you been listening? Ms. Ward, don't you mind that there used to be a dead body right here?" She pointed to a spot on the floor.

Madeleine peered closely. Was that blood? She couldn't tell in the dimly lit room. The one naked bulb did little to illuminate the space. She shrugged a shoulder and smiled at the other woman. "Oh, I'm sure it will be fine. I mean, it's not like it's still lying there or anything."

Elaine and Mac gaped at her, but she didn't mind. A lot of people looked at her that way. Madeleine was used to it. She had been considered 'odd', 'weird', and 'off' by a lot of people since . . . Well, just since. Just because someone had a 'history' and a few 'quirks' didn't mean that she didn't deserve a second chance. Or, a third . . . Or, as in the case of this building, a fourth.

Looping her arm through Elaine's, Madeleine ushered her down the hall. She was excited to see more, and spent the next several minutes exploring the rest of the building. The front room, she decided she could expand and make into the game room. In another back room, she had discovered four ancient arcade games hidden beneath a thick protective tarp, and knew she would want to include them in the purchase. There were the remains of a commercial kitchen, a private half bath, a couple of larger, public bathrooms, a few empty rooms that still had shelving in them for storage and included more parts of other animatronic creatures, and a broom-closet.

And then they turned down one last hall in what was beginning to feel like a rabbit warren. At the end was an exit, its sign was lit giving off an eerie, red glow, but halfway down Madeleine noticed one last door. This one, unlike all the others, was closed. As she got closer, she noticed that _this_ door was made of metal. None of the other inside doors had been metal. She wondered if it held the furnace and water heater but remembered seeing _that_ room behind the kitchen. She reached for the door handle.

Locked . . . That was strange.

The building was scheduled for demolition. All the doors were supposed to be open and every room searched to make sure no homeless or teens were hanging out in it before it was destroyed.

"What's in here?" she asked curiously.

"Honestly, I don't know," Elaine admitted. She tried the keys she had to the building but none appeared to work. "Is this room supposed to be locked?" she asked the foreman.

"No, indeed, it isn't," Mac said, stepping between the two women and pulling out a large set of keys. "Safety regs state that every room has to be checked before demolition can begin. I sent two of my men in here this morning, but neither of them mentioned a door being locked to me. Hang on. I should have a key for this door." He flipped through the dozen or so he had.

"Oh!" Elaine exclaimed suddenly. "I think this might be the safe room! The owner mentioned the building had one. It's walls and doors are reinforced to protect the contents from flood and fire damage."

"Could be just that," Mac muttered as he slid one of the keys into the lock. "Hold up. I think I've got it."

There was a click as the locking mechanism could be heard sliding back with a clunk. _Heavy lock_ , Madeleine thought, wondering what was so valuable that it needed this kind of security. Maybe this is where the owners had kept their receipts at the end of the business day? But most places, as she understood it, tended to take all but a small amount to the bank; it was better since criminals wouldn't bother breaking in if the haul wasn't worth the effort and risk.

Mac turned the knob and pushed the door open with a loud squeal. They were expecting stale air. The room had been locked for six months, after all, but the stench that billowed out was rank.

"Ugh! Oh, my Lord," Elaine squawked, stepping back and waving a hand in front of her face. "What is that smell? It's worse than the one in the front room!"

Mac took a step into the room, feeling along the wall for a switch. "There should be a light switch around here somewhere."

Madeleine held her nose. "A dead animal got in here, too?"

"Maybe through a vent," Mac choked. "Hah! I think I found it!" he crowed a second later, only to be disappointed. "Ah, man. Looks like the lightbulb is blown out. Where's my flashlight?"

Madeleine leaned in to look over Mac's shoulder. It took only a second to find the room's sole occupant. She blinked in surprise. It was a rabbit! A human-sized, animatronic bunny . . . that had obviously seen better days. As the light played over it, she noticed that nearly all of its fur had been worn off, revealing its rusted metal base. Its yellow paint was flaking off badly, and the entire body sported holes of varying sizes.

"What the hell is that?" Mac asked aloud, incredulous.

Pushing past him, Madeleine kneeled on the dirt-encrusted floor beside it. It was missing part of an ear, she noted, and it was covered in dents and some of the patches of fur looked green from mold. He . . . she was certain that the robotic rabbit was a 'he' . . . had been sorely abused. It looked like someone had taken him out and used him for target practice! The wastefulness and careless destruction made her angry.

"Oh, you poor thing!" She crooned.

"Is that one of the animatronics?" Elaine asked uneasily from the doorway?

Madeleine nodded. "Yes . . . or it used to be, anyway. Someone must have locked him in here and forgotten him."

"Well, if that smell is coming from him, I can't say that I blame them," Elaine said, covering her nose with the edge of her blouse. "I'm surprised that they didn't just get rid of him like the others."

Mac grimaced. "Smells like a critter might have gotten inside of it and died."

"Look at this!" Madeleine complained. "Some of these holes look like they came from bullets. This is horrible!"

 _Why would anyone want to damage such a valuable piece of machinery_? Madeleine could see past the rust and mold to what he must have looked like when he was new. _This was criminal_! One of the owners must have put the animatronic in here to protect him from vandals, but obviously it was too late.

"Oh, I agree completely." Elaine stepped back into the hallway for a little air. The dusty smell was a hundred times better than the stench emanating from safe room. "That _is_ horrible," she said, speaking of the smell.

Maddie nodded emphatically. "I know, right? How could anyone be so cruel?"

Her nose twitched. Yes, he did smell pretty rank, but if someone had bothered to take proper care of him, maybe he wouldn't have been in such bad condition! After all, the scraps of the previous animatronics looked far better than him, but at least this one was whole! Perhaps, if she had the time and money, and after the renovations were complete, she could fix him up a little . . . Maybe even use him for an attraction!

"What is that on him?" Mac asked, shining the light on one of its hands.

"Is that blood?" Elaine wondered aloud. The realtor stepped further back into the hallway nervously.

Madeleine leaned down – through her mouth – and picked up the extremity, scratching at the dark-brown splatter with a fingernail. The suspicious, dried-on stain flaked off under the onslaught. The remaining fur in that area was also stained a curious, reddish-brown tint. Madeleine frowned at the familiarity of it.

She stood suddenly, forcing Mac to step back to avoid Madeleine bumping into him.

"No," Madeleine said with finality. "I don't think so."

"What else could it be, then?" Elaine asked. She was sounding a little hysterical, in Madeleine's opinion.

She shrugged nonchalantly, turning away. "Strawberry jam? Paint? Does it really matter?"

Elaine was, apparently, really caught up in these ghost stories that were haunting the place. Madeleine didn't believe in curses or monsters under the bed. She had already met a real-life monster and this beaten husk of a rabbit wasn't it.

She stepped out of the safe room with Mac and insisted that he relock the door. The better to protect her investment. Madeleine set her hands on her hips and looked back down the dimly-lit hallway, satisfied with her vision, confident with her plans.

"I'll take it," she announced out of the blue.

Elaine looked startled. "You . . . You don't want to take a day to think it over?"

"Nope! I know what I want and this is it," Madeleine grinned at her. "It just needs a little elbow-grease and a little love . . . and a boatload of money. I have all of that! This place is perfect."

They exited out of the back door. The afternoon sun was already low in the sky, but after half an hour inside the murky confines of the building, the brightness caused Madeleine to have to squint. Elaine heaved a sigh of relief as Mac locked up behind them.

"So, what is the owner asking for it?"

Elaine's discomfort had fled the moment they had stepped outside. She smiled now. "I think you'll be pleased. The price is practically a song."

Madeleine felt her jaw drop when Elaine quoted the price but then, she realized it made perfect sense. The building was on its last legs and had been on the market for six months without an offer. The owner was no doubt desperate to get it off his hands, especially with this last murder still attached to the building.

Madeleine laughed in delight. "Where do I sign?"

"I'll draw up the paperwork tonight and call the owner. I know he'll accept with alacrity, so let me be the first to congratulate you." Elaine grinned at the younger woman's enthusiasm. This sale certainly wouldn't hurt her reputation in the real estate world, either.

"Call him now," Madeleine urged her. "I don't want to take the chance that someone else will outbid me and steal the property out from under me."

"Now? Well, alright, but I think it's safe to say that won't be a worry in this case," Elaine pulled out her cell phone and hit redial. A few minutes later, she was handing the keys to Madeleine. "I may be getting ahead of myself, but here are the keys to the property, Ms. Ward. Congratulations and may I wish you luck on your new venture. It's been a pleasure."

Madeleine could barely contain her squeal of excitement as she snatched the keys up. She turned to Mac and fired him on the spot, but eased it a moment later with an offer.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to become my general contractor for the renovation, would you?" she asked him. "I've only been living here for a short time and don't know who to trust in the industry."

"I'm flattered, ma'am," he said. "But my business is tearing things down, not building them back up again."

"Please? I promise that there will be plenty to tear down initially," she tried again.

Mac laughed. "Alright. Once you get the paperwork all sorted out, we can help with the demolition and clean up afterwards. Then, I can give you the names of a couple of people that can help you with the renovations."

"Deal!" Madeleine exclaimed.

Things were already looking up for her! This was going to be fantastic, she thought as she glanced back at the building behind her. She decided right then and there that she was going to put aside money specifically for fixing up that old animatronic rabbit inside as well. The two of them would get this new project done together!

She thanked them and made her way back to her car. She spotted Roger in the passenger seat, knees propped on the dash and eyes closed as if he were sleeping. Madeleine jerked open the driver's side door and hopped behind the wheel.

"I did it!" She announced with a squeal of excitement.

Roger jumped. His eyes blinking rapidly as he struggled to wake up. "You . . . What?"

Madeleine dangled _her_ keys to _her_ new building in front of his nose. "I bought the building! It's all mine now."

Roger's eyebrows rose in his disbelief. He looked out to the old wreck before them. "You're kidding, right? Please, tell me you're kidding. You actually _bought_ that piece of shit?"

Madeleine dropped the keys into the cup holder. She should have known that Roger wouldn't be happy for her. Sighing now, she started up the vehicle and turned it around in short order. Volkswagen Bugs could be turned on a dime.

"It's not going to look like a piece of poop when I'm done with it," she told him. "Now, let's get home. I want to celebrate."

"I still think you're making a mistake," he grumbled, trying to find a comfortable position in the too-small car.

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye and thought to herself that maybe she had, but it wasn't from buying the building. She smiled despite this revelation, however, because this was a mistake she could fix if Roger couldn't get with the program and support her in this.

Her dream was about to be realized . . .

* * *

 **Introducing my OC Madeleine Ward. Would love to hear your opinions of her and how the story sounds so far. Bet none of you will guess what's going to happen next! ;) Oh, and please don't do a Maddie and talk on your phone while driving. That's a big no, no. She's a bad influence.**


	3. Catch Me If You Can

**Apologies for the wait! I had family to visit for the past two weeks and never could get the time to sit down and write, but now that my schedule is pretty much back to normal I will hopefully be able to post sooner than this one! I also want to give a big thank you to those who have reviewed my story! Especially to the guests whom I can't message back! I hope you continue to enjoy my story!**

* * *

"What the hell?"

Springtrap didn't know what was going on, but he didn't like it. The building should have been demolished days ago but, once again, night had come and still it stood around him like a monument to his curse, his own personal hell on earth.

He had been sitting in the same spot for the past thirteen hours but now, he clambered onto his feet. His rusted joints made squeaking sounds as he stretched out his arms and reached for the doorknob. After being subjected to nothing but darkness for years, Springtrap knew where everything was, every loose tile, every door, every piece of trash this place held. He hoped that this had changed and the building had been torn down around him.

He stepped out into the hallway and stared down its untouched lengths in a flood of despair. Nothing had changed – _nothing_! As before, everything was standing.

He didn't understand it. A few of weeks ago, he had clearly overheard the owner talking to another man about bulldozing the building and selling off the lot. They had debated as to whether he should be junked or sold for parts. It had been scheduled to take place two days ago, and yet no walls had fallen on him, no ceiling had caved in, and no one had come to take him apart as they had promised.

What did he have to do to end this nightmare?

With a frustrated snarl, Springtrap stomped down the hall to his left. Perhaps the demolition was only delayed. He wondered briefly if this had something to do with that woman who had visited the place a couple of days back. Surely not. What woman in her right mind would want to take on a project doomed to failure before it even began?

Springtrap paused mid-step, head whipping back towards the party room. The once narrow and small room that had been filled with broken tables and chairs and half-rotted decorations now stood empty, and . . . Did it seem bigger than it had the other day?

With narrowed eyes, Springtrap stepped into the now spacious party room. The walls had been stripped of the plaster down to the studs. The only thing left reminding him that this had once been two separate spaces were the old support beams running down the center of the enlarged room. The floor was in the process of being ripped out, leaving the subflooring exposed in several places. The plaster and tile were lying in a pile in the corner of the room waiting to be hauled off. In another corner lay fresh plywood, two by fours, and stacks of drywall.

Dread filled Springtrap as realization slammed into him. Not a demolition, then, but a renovation.

 _Someone was actually going to fix this place up?_ Springtrap shook his head in denial. _No! This was not supposed to happen!_ He wanted this to end! This place . . . It needed to be forgotten, its memories destroyed! Everything needed to be burned to the ground!

Springtrap froze. _Burn . . . Yes, burn. It needed to burn!_ He didn't have to wait for someone to do it for him; he could end this madness now!

Springtrap spun on his rotted heels and hobbled out of the room, his eyes instinctively shooting to the camera at the end of the hall. The little red light that indicated it was active was missing. What did that mean? Was no one watching? Was there no one here now? That just made what he was about to do easier. He headed down the hall in the direction of the security room, his ear and a half straining to pick up any sounds of another's presence. So far, only his own footfalls answered him.

Entering the security room, he paused, gaping at the emptiness of it. The desk, the computer that connected to the cameras, even his favorite swivel chair - his _only_ swivel chair – were all gone. Everything had been stripped clean. The walls and floors in the same condition as the party room. Growling, Springtrap's hands curled into tight fists.

He was turning to leave when he saw it, a cheetah-print purse lay abandoned in one corner of the room. Curious, he crossed over to stare at the handbag. Did this mean that the woman from the other day had bought the place? Moreover, did this mean that she was still hanging around somewhere or had she just forgotten it? He stuck his head out into the hall and listened again for sounds of a human presence. He heard nothing unusual.

Well, nothing aside from the constant humming of his electronics, a noise that was present twenty-four seven, like a gnat buzzing in your ears while your bed bound. It drove him _insane_. He couldn't remember what total silence sounded like!

Determining he was alone, Springtrap picked up the purse, rummaging through it. He plucked out a little, plastic, disk-shaped, object first. His eyes narrowed as he studied the strange item. Although, it looked vaguely familiar to him, he decided it was unimportant to his needs and tossed it aside. The sound of glass shattering caught his attention and he looked down. The disc had broken apart and tiny shards of mirror and dust were scattered across the floors. A distant memory of a woman using the object to look at herself in it and powdering her nose flitted briefly through his mind.

He tried to shrug the memory away. The movement, he knew looked odd. His robotic body had trouble mimicking the physical expression. It didn't matter anymore to him, and neither did the broken mirror thing. He returned his attention to the contents of the bag.

He dug around, plucking several other items out and throwing them aside, looking for he knew not what. After a few minutes, however, Springtrap began to wonder how much stuff a woman could stash in such a skimpy-looking bag. He discovered a black tube of bright pink lipstick, the name of the article he plucked from the ether in a surprising display of recall. This was followed by a leather wallet, tissues, sunglasses, keys, a broken pen, a small notepad, dental floss, and gum . . . Juicy Fruit, the pack read. He pulled out another plastic object he couldn't name. It was larger and rectangular in shape, and was heavier than the broken mirror/dusty thing. One side was black and the other was decorated in a gaudy floral pattern. He shook it, but nothing exciting happened. He grunted and tossed it on the floor with the rest of the purse's contents.

He peered into the purse's depths, was there no end to it all?

"This is ridiculous! How much junk does one person need?" Springtrap grumbled to himself.

His large, metal hand had trouble grasping a small rounded container although it was larger than the Lipstick. He jiggled the bag and listened to clinking and rattling. Losing his patience, Springtrap flipped the handbag upside down and shook it out. Paper clips, loose coins, a Chapstick, a half-eaten pack of Lifesavers, and a black, metal can fell onto the floor and scattered, bouncing and rolling everywhere. Dropping the bag, Springtrap reached for the can.

"What's this?" he asked the emptiness around him. Fumbling with it, the plastic lid popped off, revealing an interesting white button. "Curious, little thing. I wonder what you do?"

When he pressed the button, a fine, white mist shot from it. He rotated the item in his hand until he found the label. Raising it up to the light from the hallway, he read the tiny font letters printed on the side.

H-A-I-R-S-P-R-A-Y

Springtrap lowered his arm, it was as useless to him as everything else. He was about to toss it to the ground when he spotted the warning label on the back of the can. He held it up to the light again, squinting, although the action didn't help him read it. It, like his other mannerisms, were just leftover remnants of his life before death. It had been thirty years, and he still couldn't shake the habits. He turned the can so he could more easily make out the words.

"Keep Out of Reach of Children," he read aloud. "Highly Flammable."

A spurt of excitement raced through his wiring as an idea came to mind. Not so useless, after all, he thought to himself. Springtrap curled his fist around the hairspray, crushing the handbag beneath his foot as he walked out of the security room.

* * *

Madeleine sighed heavily as she leaned against her car door, holding a red BIC lighter, two quarters, and some lint in her hand instead of her car keys. Unfortunately, it was the only thing she had in her pockets. She was so tired that she hadn't even realized that she had left her purse behind until she needed the keys to unlock the vehicle. After such a long day, all Madeleine wanted to do was go home and soak in a tub of hot water until her skin was wrinkly.

Mac had just driven off after Maddie had assured him she'd lock up but, currently, that was just as impossible to do without her keys as driving home. Thank God, she hadn't let Mac lock up for her or she would have been stuck out here in the parking lot without even her cell phone to call Roger or a cab. Luckily for her, Maddie remembered where she had left her errant handbag and wouldn't have to search the entire building for it.

She shook her head at herself as she marched back into her building. The long hours must be taking their toll on her already for her to forget her purse. Her body was aching in places she didn't know she had muscles. Madeleine made her way back through the labyrinth of hallways to her new office stifling a yawn. In another day, the workers would have more walls torn down as they got ready to frame in the lobby section. She wanted to raise the ceiling as well to create some drama like in the theaters of old. The place would be a showstopper, welcoming families, teenagers, and couples alike.

Madeleine turned into the room she had designated her office space and came to an abrupt halt. She gasped at the mess. Her belongings had been scattered across the floor in a chaotic manner. She bent down and grabbed her now-emptied purse, and began gathering up the discarded items. She picked up her car keys and slid them into her pocket next to the lighter and the quarters. The screen of her cellphone, she noted, was now cracked.

Madeleine paused to check her wallet, frowning. Nothing was missing.

"Aw man! I just bought these," Maddie grumbled as she picked up her sunglasses. Both the sunglasses and her compact had been broken. Whoever had raided her purse had not been polite about it. The amount of damage done made her wonder if the person responsible was somehow angry at her. Although, what she could have done to inspire this, she didn't know, but why do all this if not to steal something?

Madeleine shook her head. This didn't make sense.

Her belongings retrieved, she rose to her feet and slung her purse across her shoulder. Madeleine was preparing to head back out when she heard faint noises coming from down the hall and froze in mid-step. _Was the person who trashed my purse still here in the building_? She hadn't really considered that. She had only assumed that the culprit had taken off when he had finished. Why was he still here unless he wanted to continue vandalizing the place?

Muscles knotting and heart racing, the thought crossed her mind that maybe she should try to make a run for it but, dang it, she had just bought this place! The urge to go investigate wasn't exactly strong; she wasn't stupid enough to take on a criminal by herself unless she had no choice. Maybe this was a homeless guy or a druggie or something . . . but Madeleine hadn't spent this much money for a place where bums could hide out. This place was her dream, and she wasn't about to let some idiot break in and trash it.

Decision made, Madeleine turned down the hall where the clanking and clattering sounds originated with a false sense of bravery. She could do this . . . and maybe if she kept telling herself that, she'd start to believe it. The rustling and clacking rose in volume the closer she got to it and Maddie slowed, instinctively hugging the walls. She'd just peek in first and see what the guy was up to. If he looked dangerous, she could retreat to the car and call the cops from there, but if he was just searching for a place to sleep, she could call Roger to help her run him off.

Madeleine frowned at that. Roger wasn't likely to drive all the way across town just to shoo a derelict off her property. Her eyes scanned the area for a sign of a possible weapon. If she did end up in a confrontation with this guy, she really did not want to go in unarmed. She spotted a piece of broken brick in the middle of the floor and scooped it up. Weighing it in her hand, Maddie figured it weighed a good eight pounds. she could do some damage with it if she had to. She shoved her phone into her back pocket so she wouldn't break it, and then dropped her makeshift weapon into her bag, zipping it up and looping the handles around her palm.

If she lived through this, Madeleine decided right then, she really needed to get a proper weapon for self-defense. She'd not be allowed a gun, but maybe a Taser or some pepper spray would work! It would be better than a bag of bricks, at least.

Just outside of the kitchen, Madeleine recognized the sound of rustling, like paper was being crunched up. She relaxed a little. Her uninvited guest was a homeless guy, she decided, but what else was he doing in there? The metallic clanking sounds were confusing her. What could possibly be making that noise?

Pressing her back against the wall, her brick-laden purse at the ready, Madeleine leaned in and peered around the door frame and frowned. The room appeared devoid of human life. The only thing in the room was a black trashcan filled to the brim with old newspaper, lumber, and other trash from around the construction zone, but nothing that explained the noises she had heard. Before she could move to investigate, the odd clanking noise began again and a figure appeared out of the storage room behind the kitchen.

It was the broken down, animatronic rabbit from the safe room! _It worked?_ She gaped, wondering who had turned the robot on. As it hobbled into the room with another armload of trash, she tried to figure out what it was doing. As she watched, it shoved more of the garbage into the already-overstuffed bin.

 _Aw, he was trying to help_ , she decided. _How sweet_!

The man-sized, robotic bunny paused in his task to tug at something lodged in one of the many holes in its torso. It pulled out a couple of wires, exposing the copper ends, and touched them together, creating a spark.

 _Oh, that's not good_ , Madeleine gasped. In fact, that was a fire hazard. The rabbit picked up a small, black cylinder next and suddenly a mist sprayed out from it. Maddie caught a whiff of the acrid scent of hairspray just as another spark snapped to life and the alcohol in the hairspray lit up like a mini-blowtorch!

"Oh, my God!" she yelped. "Oh, my God!" The blasted piece of scrap metal was trying to burn down her building!

The papers in the trashcan went up like a bonfire; the flames shot up several feet in the air, nearly licking the bone-dry drop-ceiling. Those panels, she knew, would go up like they were soaked in lighter-fluid. Maddie knew from talking with plumbers yesterday that the sprinkler system wasn't working on this side of the building at the moment.

This was a kitchen! It was bound to have more than one method for dealing with a fire. Madeleine glanced around the room and located the fire extinguisher that had been installed at some point along one wall. She didn't think beyond the emergency as she dropped her brick and rushed to grab the red container from its cubby. Pulling the pin and pointing the hose, Madeleine squeezed the handle, white foam shot from the nozzle, happily coating the bin's contents and smothering the flames. Next, she turned the foam onto the hairspray canister and her automated arsonist.

She didn't release her death grip on the fire extinguisher until the animatronic resembled a snowman more than the rabbit it was supposed to be. As she lowered the nozzle, the robotic bunny blinked at her several times, trying to clear the foam from its eyes. Madeleine's lips quirked up in response, giggling at the absurdity. The machine had actually looked startled by the sudden change of events. But, then her humor fell away as she remembered that someone must have programmed the animatronic to sabotage her renovation.

"Who programmed you to do this?" she demanded ludicrously. She didn't expect an answer, of course, so she was astounded when it responded.

"What the hell?" the rabbit growled at her with a surprisingly deep voice. He wiped at the froth covering his face and flung it away, splattering both the floor and the wall nearby.

"You talk?" Madeleine gaped in amazement, then she slapped her forehead. "But, of course, you would talk . . ." She smiled up at him. "My hallucinations always talk."

The rabbit seemed to consider her for a long moment, almost as if he were trying to reason her out, but Maddie quickly realized that something like that sounded a little crazy. And, if there was one thing Madeleine Ward was _not_ , that was crazy . . . Leastways, not anymore!

When the green LED light in the animatronic's eyes abruptly flashed red, Madeleine backed up a step.

"Whoa! Hey, did you know your eyes just changed color," she asked him.

The giant rabbit made a snarling sound and lunged for her. Lightning-fast reflexes enabled Madeleine to leap out of range, but only barely. Those same reflexes had her throwing the fire extinguisher at his head in response.

"Oh, sorry," she apologized when the heavy-duty metal cylinder dented the robot's forehead with a loud clanging sound. It fell to the floor, clanging again even louder, the noise echoed a bit in the empty room. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have startled me!"

The banged-up bunny stopped to shake its head. It glared at her and yelled, "You, bitch! I'm going to kill you for that!"

Maddie's mouth dropped open. "Well, that's not very nice. I can see right now that I'm going to have to reprogram your language software."

If anything, the red light in its eyes flared brighter and the rabbit charged her. Finally grasping the danger, Madeleine ' _eeped_ ' and ran, darting back into the hallway. Stepping on the discarded fire extinguisher, the animatronic made a similar sound as its feet flew out from under it and it crashed to the floor. Maddie skidded to a halt and peered back in at the clumsy spectacle it made while regaining its feet. She couldn't seem to help the giggle that escaped her at the sight.

"Quit laughing," the rabbit's voice crackled. "We'll see how well you laugh after I rip your lungs out!"

When the robot was back on its feet, Madeleine screeched and ran back in the direction she had come. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she heard the resounding clomping of metal feet on the chipped tile. The sound echoed up and down the hall, making it difficult to judge how close the animatronic was getting. The hallways here all looked alike and there were too many of them! If she wasn't careful, Maddie knew she would get lost.

Gah! She hated to be chased . . . This was too reminiscent of her childhood nightmares, although she couldn't remember ever being chased by a giant rabbit in one of them. This felt too surreal and she wondered if this wasn't just a side effect of her medication or something. Glancing behind her, Madeleine yipped as the animatronic closed the distance between them. She turned right and then left . . . Too many hallways! Tomorrow, she was going to make them tear down more walls, she determined.

The door coming up on her right, Maddie thought, led to the lobby and the front door. Ducking into it, she stumbled to a halt. It was the wrong room! This one was windowless and the only door was the one she had just entered through. She turned to leave and saw the angry bunny barreling down on her. It would catch her!

Panic rose and just as quickly fled as an idea flitted through her brain. She was on the opposite side of the building now . . . And if it didn't stop the rabbit, it should at least slow it down enough that she could escape it. Spinning about she ran to the single piece of furniture the room contained: a table. Madeleine shoved it into position and climbed up onto it even as she dug into her front pocket for the red BIC lighter she had been carrying around with her all day.

The rabbit appeared in the doorway as Madeleine flicked the sparkwheel a few times. A golden flame burst to life, dancing atop the lighter chamber. Lifting the flame toward the ceiling, she held it to the sprinkler head, allowing the sensors inside of it to heat to the required temperature to . . .

"Come on . . . Come on."

Backlit from the lights in the hallway, the rabbit looked creepy as it stepped into the room after her. The only thing visible in the shadows were those red, glowing eyes that Madeleine decided meant that the mechanical animal was pissed off. She refused to feel guilty over the dent in its forehead, however. It was its own fault, trying to burn down her building and then jumping at her like it did. Well, Madeleine always cleaned up after herself. Time to give the robotic arsonist a shower.

* * *

Most of the dry, powdery foam had fallen off, causing him to slip and slide at the beginning of the chase. She had almost escaped him but, as he closed the distance, she made a fatal error, ducking into a room that Springtrap knew had no other exits.

He paused in the doorway to gloat. The red light emanating from his eyes gave the room a strange glow, making everything inside look like it was coated with blood. He didn't wonder why she had climbed up on the table. He stalked toward her, determined to end his suffering even as he planned to end her life. The pleasant, electrical thrill skittered through his wiring in anticipation. There would be no way that the city would ignore yet another death here. The building would be demolished before the weekend.

* * *

Madeleine raised up on her tiptoes in an effort to get the tiny flame closer to the sprinkler head. What was taking so long? How hot did the sensor need to get before it decided to turn on? She glanced down at the doorway and yelped to see the rabbit standing there, gazing at her with those angry, ruby-red eyes. Its happy grin seemed to bely the murderous vibe it was sending out.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" she griped at him, wincing internally. Her mouth was going to be the death of her. There were a lot more productive things she could be doing than encouraging a malfunctioning, 400 lb., animatronic rabbit to kill her faster.

As the rabbit stalked her, Madeleine looked around her for a weapon but found nothing that could help her. Oh, why hadn't she brought her bag of bricks with her? Although, the bricks probably wouldn't have done much when hitting it with a fire extinguisher hadn't stopped it. There was a click from above her and a hiss as the sensor finally activated.

Water sprayed out in all directions, soaking her but, more importantly, drenching her mechanical assailant. Streams of water dribbled into the cracks and numerous holes, and into the exposed wiring . . . As she watched with horrified fascination, the robot's limbs began to jerk and twitch. His head spun around like that little girl's in that Exorcist movie.

Suddenly, sparks shot out several feet from those holes with a loud popping sound. Its right eye rolled around uncontrollably until sparks blew the eye right out of the socket! It hung down from three wires to bounce off its cheek. The red light flickered but didn't go out completely.

Maddie covered her mouth with one hand. A slightly hysterical snicker abruptly escaped her and the rabbit glared at her with its one good eye.

"Do you think this is . . . f-f-fun . . .unny? F-Fun . . . Fu-u-u-unnn . . .e-e-e-eee" the animatronic growled at her in what began as a deep, masculine voice but then, the voice rose several of octaves as it stuttered. "Wanna . . .w-w-wanna have-have . . . H-Hey kids! W-Wanna have s-s-s-some . . .have some . . . so-o-ome f-f-fu-u-u-uuunnnn . . ." The high-pitched voice slowly lowered again as the recording ran down.

She snorted with laughter.

"Shut up! Stop laughing a-a-at m-meee," the rabbit snapped at her in a Mickey Mouse voice. "I'm going to k-k-kill you!"

Madeleine's eyes widened at the threat even as she began laughing harder. "I can't help it! You sound like Porky Pig and Mickey Mouse got together and had a child! It's funny!"

It shouldn't be. She should be terrified, she knew, but the hysterical screaming in the back of her mind was being drowned out by the laughter that was inspired by the absurdity of the situation. She was being stalked by a rusted out, bucket of bolts, that kind of resembled a giant, bad-tempered, Easter bunny on steroids.

The animatronic lunged at her then, and Madeleine just avoided its reaching, twitching arms. She sidestepped it, leapt off the table, and landed in several inches of water at a run. The rabbit broke the table with its weight, nearly falling before it straightened and turned to follow her. Madeleine's boots squeaked and squished as she ran further down the hall. The entrance had to be near here.

A crash had her looking behind her. The maniacal rabbit had just run into the wall. It shoved off of it only to stumble into the opposite wall. It continued to chase her, all the while ricocheting back and forth like a pinball machine. Its eye bounced along to the rhythm, making little clinking noises . . . Her lips twitched up again as another giggle escaped her. The whole thing was just so ridiculous!

She darted through another door and discovered a large room that they had been using to store most of the tables and chairs. The door at the other end, however, Maddie knew, led directly to the lobby . . . and freedom! She still didn't have her purse, but she had her keys and that was enough for now. Behind her, the animatronic missed the door as he skidded comically past in his bid to change directions too quickly.

With a bark of laughter, Madeleine took that as her cue to get a move on. She started maneuvering around the assorted tables and stacks of chairs. The robot clambered into the room like it was on a ship in the midst of a storm. The loss of its eye had obviously distorted its depth perception and balance. It continued to barrel forward after her. Its determination was either from self-defeating stubbornness or something to be commended.

It tripped over a stack of plastic and metal chairs, going down with a loud, heavy crash. It crushed one of the chairs as it pushed itself back to its feet. Madeleine moved faster, going over tables rather than going around them. Everything was shoved so closely together, there was barely enough room for her as it was. She didn't know how the rabbit would be able to get through all this.

It tried, though. Oh Lord, did it try!

Madeleine had to wipe tears from her eyes and she was getting a stitch in her side from laughing so hard. As it was, she was gasping for breath. She jumped from one table to the next to better enable her to circumnavigate the cluttered room. Another crash erupted behind her.

"I'm going to . . ."

"Yeah, yeah," Maddie snorted. "You're going to kill me. I've heard that before. You'd have an easier time of it if you could walk a straight line."

It growled and shoved the table in front of it, shifting everything in the room as a result. Madeleine lost her footing when the table she was standing on jerked suddenly beneath her. She grunted as she sprawled across it in an ungainly heap.

"Who's laughing now," the mechanical bunny snarled at her.

Madeleine climbed to her feet and stepped onto a chair before slinging the door open. She turned and beamed at him brightly.

"I am!" she announced cheerfully as she stood in the doorway, ready to make good her escape.

The profanity that came out of the machine's mouth would have made a sailor blush. Heck, it made _her_ blush! It growled as it began lifting and throwing tables and chairs behind it. It was obviously done with this ' _game_ '. Madeleine watched, mesmerized by its determination as it made its way to her with surprising speed.

"You do realize that this is all for nothing, don't you?" Maddie told it. The animatronic only growled at her. "I'm not going to give up, and I'm not going to go away. This place is my dream."

Suddenly, it was right in front of her, only a table between her and certain death. She lifted an eyebrow. She had faced death before and walked away from it. She would again.

The rabbit's smile looked so happy; its attitude, though – eh, not so much.

"You don't have to g-g-go a-w-way," is said, its voice stuttered, still being affected by the bath it took. "I can kill you and y-y-you can stay here forev-v-ver."

"You can try . . ." Madeleine challenged.

The rotting rabbit lunged across the table, but Maddie had disappeared. It swung around to find her on the other side of the table where the robot had been standing only moments before. When it tried to grab the table and toss it away, as it had the others, Madeleine tugged the table back towards her. It stumbled forward.

Catching the table for the second time, it threw the obstacle aside but, once more, Madeleine had disappeared. It looked down and saw her boots disappearing between its legs. She had crawled between its legs! It spun around in a circle as Madeleine rolled to her feet and raced for the door once more.

The robotic bunny bellowed a staticky roar of fury and lunged at her just as Madeleine slammed the door. The wood rattled violently beneath her hands followed by a loud crash on the other side. Curiosity was simply too much for her. Preparing to dart away if the murderous rabbit was ready to grab her, Maddie opened the door and peeked her head back into the room. The room, though demolished, looked empty. Then movement on the floor caught her eye.

Madeleine looked down to find the animatronic laying on its back. It struggled to regain its feet but couldn't make it but a few inches before rocking back once more. Maddie's eyes widened when she realized that it was stuck . . . like a bug . . . or a turtle on its back.

She snapped her fingers. That was it! In his current position, he looked more like a turtle than a rabbit. The snicker rose up of its own accord. Really . . . She couldn't help it.

It cursed at her, making her blush, but it didn't make her stop giggling. It waved its arms at her, its metal fingers curled into fists as it banged its feet uselessly on the floor. Whatever ability it had to intimidate her was long since lost, probably back when its eye had popped out of place with a crackle and a sizzle.

The giggles grew into outright laughter. If it had been anything but a machine, she might have worried, but it was only wires and gears. After a few moments, Madeleine took a breath and got herself under control. The likelihood that it would understand her words was non-existent but that didn't stop her. Madeleine leaned down over him, until her face was floating right above his but still just out of range of its reaching metallic hands.

"This is my dream - right here, and nothing and no one is going to stop me from reaching it . . . Not even you. So, if you decide to hang around, I'll see you tomorrow, _Turtle_ ," Maddie added with a wink and a grin.

She turned on her heel and walked out the door with her keys in her hand. She made a mental note to call Dr. Sigmund about adjusting the medication she was taking. As interesting as the evening had been, the last thing she needed was dealing with hallucination of giant mechanical rabbits with a penchant for murder but neither did she have the time for more therapy sessions.

She was not crazy . . .

* * *

She had laughed at him!

Springtrap growled furiously as he struggled for several minutes more before falling back with an annoying metallic clank. He lay there for several long minutes, glaring at the door the woman had just disappeared through with his one good eye while the other continued to peer uselessly somewhere in the direction of his groin.

This was the only time since he was cursed with this existence that his prey had gotten away. He comforted himself with her promise to return tomorrow. He would kill her then . . . IF he could pop his eye back into place, that is. The servo that allowed his eye to move whirred ineffectively in the empty socket. Without it in place, his balance and depth perception was completely shot. Damn it . . . He made a sighing noise, although it sounded more like humming coming from his electrolarynx, or _throat-back_ , as his bastard father had referred to it.

"I. Hate. Her," he groused from his prone position as he began fantasizing about how he would kill her . . . tomorrow.

For the first time in thirty years, Springtrap found himself looking forward to another night of this existence, even if it were only to be able to rip her spinal cord out through her mouth.

* * *

 **For those interested I have a Deviantart account with scenes from Mad Maddie if anyone wishes to check it out [ art/Catch-Me-If-You-Can-700109237?ga_submit_new=10%3A1503328761]**

 **Opinions, thoughts, and constructive criticism always welcomed!**


	4. Irish Spring

Pulling into the parking lot, Tom and Brian stopped next to his coworker's vehicles. Samuel's orange SUV and Lauren's teal blue Volkswagen Tuareg were already here and Tom wondered if Dale carpooled with one of them. No sign of Mac's black hummer much to Tom's relief.

They only had a few more days before demolition was done and the rest of the construction crew Mac hired to build Miss Ward's jazzy theater came in to start the next phase. Only a few of the demo crew would remain on site for that while the rest began the next demo project downtown. Not too many wanted to stay. A lot of the guys liked the excitement that came with demolition. How many jobs allowed you to implode buildings, after all?

The obnoxious, mint-green and fuchsia, zebra-striped beetle was missing, meaning that late or not, they beat the building's new owner. That could only be a good thing. If Mac was pissed at them, he would likely only yell, but if they made him look bad in front of the client, particularly Brian who was still on probation for being late too many times, they both could be out on their asses. It was why Tom drove the idiot in. Tom was too nice for his own good. The other hands had told him this numerous times. Mac took his business seriously. He didn't put up with crap from his crew. It was why his company was always in demand, and why they needed to haul ass and get in there.

Madeleine Ward was one hell of a job, though, that's for sure. She was unlike any of Mac's previous clients and probably unlike any of his future ones as well. Despite her oddball mannerisms and quirks, Mac liked her well enough to not only take on her project but to continue on as her general contractor. That was kind of a big deal since he didn't do that sort of work anymore.

When Mac wasn't around, the mysterious Madeleine Ward and her bizarre fascination with this rotten pile of bricks was a favorite topic of conversation. Tom still couldn't figure out why she liked the place so much and frankly, he wasn't sure he wanted to find out. Several of the guys told stories of the building being haunted or cursed. Tom laughed at their superstitious ideas. It was the twenty-first century and these guys were jumpy like they expected a zombie to leap out whenever they opened up a new wall. Granted, there had been some weird stuff that had gone on here, but Tom knew there were explanations for all of it, it was just that nobody's figured it out yet.

Whatever. Despite her oddities, Tom thought she was nice. She'd bring everyone in donuts every morning and bought pizza for the crew every Friday so far. She seemed likeable enough. And if she was a little bit off, well, that only added to her quirky charm.

He climbed out of the truck, glancing at Brian in his familiar brown workman's boots and dirt-stained jeans. The oversized, black hoodie was new. Brian pulled his baseball cap down low on his forehead and left his dark-tinted sunglasses in place to shade his eyes, probably hoping no one noticed they were bloodshot. They were his 'go-to' shades when it came to hangovers. Last night must have been particularly heavy.

"You're not still drunk, are you?" Tom asked him suspiciously. Construction and demolition sites were too dangerous to be working when drunk.

Brian stared at him. "No!"

"Come on, then," Tom told him. "We don't want Mac to know we were running late."

"So, what? Mac's not even here yet," Brian grumbled. His head must be aching. "How's he going to find out?"

"He finds out. Mac always does."

"Fuck, Mac! If I didn't need this job . . ." Brian snorted derisively.

"And watch your mouth. Ms. Ward doesn't allow cursing on the job," Tom warned, pocketing his keys.

"Yeah, well, I bet I could get her to yell a few profanities," Brian laughed, grabbing his crotch, "and like doing it."

Tom turned around and poked him in the chest. "Don't go there, son. You'll regret it."

Tom knew that Brian didn't like the boss lady. He announced yesterday on the way home that he thought her bread wasn't quite done in the middle. Tom just reminded him to keep that opinion to himself unless he wanted to be given his walking papers. He was already toeing the line as it was without _that_ getting back to Mac.

So, she was a little bit loony-toons. So, what? 'Boss Lady' was entertaining as all get out and a stubborn little bull, too. A force to be reckoned with; a woman who never took no for an answer. That was why they were still here. Mac didn't know how to tell the lady no . . . Or she just bulldozed her way right over him. The fact was, she kind of reminded Tom of his wife. The stubborn part, not the crazy part. But crazy or not, she deserved a little respect.

Tom shook his head before he dug himself in too deep of a hole. He was perfectly fine with Ms. Ward and her chosen project. It wasn't strange to him at all that anyone would want the place for anything other being demolished and start anew. He was here for one thing and one thing only. To do a job and rip this son of a bitch down to its bones.

As he neared the building, Tom sat his yellow construction hat on the top of his balding head. Another curse sounded behind him.

Tom turned a questioning glance on Brian. "What's the matter now?" he asked a bit snappishly.

"Forgot my stupid helmet. You don't happen to have a spare on you, do you?"

Tom rolled his eyes. Why was he not surprised? "Under the seat on the passenger side," he told him, tossing him his keys. "I want it back by the end of the day."

"Chill, dude. I'll give it back," Brian said as he caught the keys. He turned back to the truck.

* * *

Brian wasn't stupid. He was hungover, irritable, and wishing for death to take him right about now. He might even be a little bit drunk still, although he'd never admit to it, but he wasn't stupid. He could hear Tom's warning tone in his not-so-empty threats. He knew what it would mean if he didn't pull himself together. He wasn't trying to avoid the problem; he knew what he was doing wrong. He just didn't know how to fix it.

His first love was this job. Nothing beats getting to tear things apart or blowing shit up. The job wasn't the problem. Alcohol was the problem. Alcohol: his second love. Tom would say she was a harsh mistress, and today, he would be right. Brian's head was pounding. The problem was he was addicted to one, but he needed the other. Despite this revelation, he still drank, and he knew without saying that tonight, he would drink again.

There! He admitted he had a problem, but now what? Admitting it didn't make it go away. Sighing, Brian followed Tom around the side of the building to the back door. Coming in through the front would be like announcing they just arrived. Entering from the rear, they could claim to have already been here for a while.

 _This time_ , he thought to himself as he stepped into the dusty corridor, _this time I will do better._ He had no choice. He needed this job to survive. If he lost this . . . he was screwed, and may God have mercy on his rotten soul when he came to say hi.

They passed by the office that Samuel and Lauren were currently enlarging and making their way towards the lobby where the others were.

Samuel waved. "You two just getting here?"

"Had to toss a few things into the dumpster outside," Tom lied. "Is Mac here yet?"

"Don't think so," Samuel told him. He turned back shoveling broken dry wall and boards into the wheelbarrow. Lauren only nodded in their direction, busy as she was tearing up tile.

Other than the rest of those tiles, this area had already received a major face lift and the construction crew had yet to begin. But for all of that, the atmosphere in this place gave him the heebie-jeebies. Yesterday, the crew had found stains on the foundation where they had torn up flooring: reddish-brown stains. Brian suspected it was blood, but Tom and the others pooh-poohed that idea, saying there was too much of it. Cops would have known if there had ever been a massacre. Nope. There had been a murder several months back but that had been in the office, not the lobby.

But there had been similar stains everywhere. It couldn't have been blood. That would have meant that people hadn't just disappeared here, but had been killed and their bodies taken out and hidden. Brian suppressed a shiver. He didn't want Tom or the other guys to make fun of him for being a chicken shit. He'd rather work all day with a hangover than to be razzed about that from his coworkers.

They turned into a room that opened onto the new lobby area, hoping to use it as a short cut. It was filled with tables and chairs, but they were all scattered around the room in a chaotic fashion.

Tom frowned, but didn't stop. "What happened in here?" he wondered aloud.

Three steps later, the smell hit them. Brian gagged, slapping a hand over his mouth. It smelled like something rotting, not something one wanted to experience with the nausea that came with the hangover. This job came with its share of nasty smells but _this_ . . . He gagged again.

Tom swung around and pointed a finger at him. "Don't you dare puke in here!"

"Oh my God! What _is_ that?" Brian stumbled to a stop, grabbing the collar of his shirt to cover his nose.

Tom's nose crinkled at the stench. "Whew! Smells like the butcher's freezer when the electricity's been off for a few days."

Brian swallowed hard. "Did you have to go with that analogy?"

Tom smirked. "What's the matter, sunshine? Ain't never smelled a dead animal before?"

"Can't say I have. So, you think an animal snuck in here last night and died in one of the rooms." Brian muttered. Of course, always rely on Tom to have a logical explanation for the scent of rotting meat in an old abandoned haunted house!

Brian felt his mouth fill with saliva and he had a metallic taste in his mouth. This was not going to end well. He would like to think of himself as a tough guy but holy smokes! He was going to hurl, he turned away, but the distance to the back door felt like miles. His stomach roiled. Yanking off his borrowed hard hat, Brian bent over and spewed the contents of his belly into it. There hadn't been much left in there, some vodka, remnants of a microwaveable burrito, and stomach acid.

Tom gaped at him. "That's my hat, you stupid . . ." he cut off his rant abruptly. "Get out of here! _And, wash my hard hat out_!" he yelled after the puling infant.

Brian staggered back the way he came, bumping into a table and causing it to squeal as it slid several inches, knocking into more furniture piled up. His boot caught on something hard and heavy, and unable to catch himself, Brian fell forward, the vomit-filled hard hat flying out of his hands to splatter across the floor with a clatter.

"What the hell?" He rolled over to see what he tripped on and gaped. " _Holy Shit_! _What the hell is that thing_?!" Brian squawked, the sound coming out of the twenty-seven-year-old was shrill as he scrabbled away in a panic.

"I think maybe it's a . . . rabbit?" Tom's voice was muffled as he had pulled the flannel shirt he was wearing over his mouth and nose. He leaned over to look more closely. "Hey! I think this might be one of those animatronic things they used to have here back in the day."

"Yeah? Well, it's disgusting! Is that smell coming from it?" Brian asked. The stench was making his eyes water.

"This place used to be an old pizzeria before they turned it into a horror attraction. They used these animatronics in shows to entertain the kids." Tom squatted down next to the rusted-out piece of junk.

"Are you freaking kidding me? People brought their kids here?" Brian stared in disbelief. That would have given him nightmares had his folks been so cruel as to bring him here. He didn't need this shit. He was only here to tear the place down.

"Sure. I used to take my daughters here every Saturday . . . I don't recall ever seeing this particular one before, though." Tom took his hard hat off and wiped his forehead. "Of course, they were in better shape back then."

Brian gaped at his coworker's shiny head. "You actually took your _daughters_ to see crap like this? I thought you loved them."

Tom ignored the remark. "I'm guessing they used this one as a prop for the horror attraction."

"Well it's obviously trash now. Why hasn't anyone dumped this thing yet?" Brian finally pushed himself back onto his feet with a grunt. "Oh yeah, and I'm _fine_ , thanks for asking," he muttered.

Tom ignored the comment as he smirked up at him. "Hoo-wee! It does smell plum ripe, now doesn't it? And, your puke is just adding to the bouquet." His humor left as he spied the mess behind the younger man. " _You're_ cleaning that up, by the way, that _and_ my hat," he declared.

"Yeah, sure, whatever," Brian wiped at his jeans and then cursed again. "Damn it! I got my sick all over me." He glared at the metallic bunny. It appeared to be glaring right back at him. He shivered and looked away. "It wasn't in here yesterday. How'd you figure it got in here?"

"Not a clue, but I figure that smell is from some animal that must have crawled up inside of it and died," Tom guessed. "Maybe a squirrel or something." He picked up the hanging eye that was dangling by a couple of wires and popped it back into its socket. "There you go, buddy. All better now."

"Well, it stinks! And the damned thing is creeping me out. Look, help me dump it out back before we get started," Brian decided suddenly. "There's no way that the boss lady will want to keep this piece of junk." Nobody was _that_ crazy.

Tom nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I suppose we'd better do it." He kicked the leg lightly. It made an odd sound. Not quite hollow, he determined. Squirrel must have made a nest inside of it or something. "What do you think this thing weighs?"

Brian was panting, breathing through his mouth. "Holy hell, it stinks! Worse than my old lady's cooking . . ." He eyed the rotting rabbit critically. "Don't know. Maybe a few hundred pounds. It didn't quite sound solid, so maybe just the two of us can handle it."

"Fine. You grab its legs and I'll get its arms." Tom positioned himself by the head and leaned in again in order to slip his arms around the mechanical critter's torso. "Get a move on," he griped. "This thing is heavy."

The legs were definitely the easier end of the deal. Brian wondered if he could make the trip to the dumpster while holding his breath. He picked up the ankles and tucked them under his arms and lifted, only to drop it again. "God bless America, this thing is a beast!"

"I'd guesstimate around a good four-hundred pounds." Tom gasped. "You helping or not?"

It took some effort, but the two managed to haul the moldy rabbit through the door without much trouble. They only banged the bunny against the doorframe a couple of time before heading back down the long hallway. Brian glanced at the mechanical face. There was something evil in that maniacal grin, he was sure. He frowned when he realized the eyes were looking straight at him.

What the _fuck_? When he had first looked at it after tripping, the one eye had been looking at him, too, but it had been angled to the left, then. Maybe Tom had moved it when he had stuck the loose eye back in its place.

"Hey, Tom. Is this thing, like, running or something?" Brian asked, ignoring the fact that his voice sounded higher than it had a minute ago.

Tom huffed a laugh. "You're kidding, right?" he asked, panting. "This thing is probably twenty or thirty years old. No way can it be working after all this time. Just look at it."

"I am looking at it. The problem is that the creepy thing is looking back at me," Brian told him. He tilted his head to the rabbit's right, experimentally.

 _Wait_! he gasped in his head. Did the eyes just move? It hadn't been by much, just a little bit . . . to its right? Was it really looking at him? Brian tried to swallow. It was like he was trying to swallow a baseball. It got stuck halfway down.

"I swear Tom, I think this thing is _looking_ at me!"

Tom gave his coworker a dry look. "It's a machine, Brian. An old, broken-down mechanical robot. Chill out."

Brian shifted his attention, focusing instead on the largest hole in the torso. The light illuminated the interior for just a couple of seconds as they passed beneath a fixture, and his brain stuttered to a halt.

 _Wait_! _What_? He blinked and shifted his hold from the ankles to the knees to get a little closer.

"Hey! Watch what you're doing," Tom complained. "This thing's hard enough to carry without you moving things around."

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry," Brian muttered absently. He wasn't paying attention to Tom's grumbling; he was concentrating on what he thought he saw. They were passing beneath another light fixture and he found he was holding his breath as he waited to see . . . The light flashed on dull lumps of a gray, brown and a rusty kind of color. Images of high school biology flashed through his mind.

His eyes jerked up to the rabbit's face abruptly. Anything but seeing what he thought he had seen. A nervous sweat broke out on his forehead. His alcohol-soaked brain was playing tricks on him. Yeah, that was it. He really should cut back on drinking on the nights during the workweek. Those brown-rusty stains he saw splatter across the head and torso weren't really dried blood because that would be crazy, and Brian wasn't crazy, he was just drunk.

 _Fake_ . . . Tom said this thing was supposed to have been used for that horror attraction. Yeah, that was it. This was all fake. This thing had been made to look like some kind of mechanical monster to scare the teenagers. _It's not real_ . . . _It's not real_ . . . _It's not real_ . . .

He tried to look away, he really did, but he couldn't. His gaze seemed to have locked onto the rabbit's eyes. God, the previous owner could have made a fortune with just this thing alone. The hair on the back of his neck rose as one of the creature's eyelids plopped down, closing for just a second before lifting back up slowly.

Startled, Brian stumbled and dropped the legs. They made a horrible, loud, clanging noise that echoed throughout the building. Tom lurched as suddenly the entire four hundred pounds was his to support. He let the upper portion of the animatronic fall as he dropped to one of his knees.

"What the hell, Brian!" Tom snapped angrily. "Are you _trying_ to break my back? You don't just let go of your end without warning me first!"

"It-It winked at me, Tom!" Brian squealed. "That fucking thing _winked_ at me!"

"Are you still drunk?" Tom asked suspiciously. "You said you weren't but what the hell, Brian?"

"I'm not drunk!" At least, not anymore. No, Brian was stone-cold sober right now. "I'm telling you, that thing is still alive."

Silence reigned between the two men for five long seconds as Tom processed that. Then he shook his head, sighing. "And you think it winked at you."

"I know what I saw," Brian snapped.

Tom smirked. "Maybe, it _likes_ you."

"Don't say that!"

Tom snorted with laughter. "It's not alive, dumbass. Come on, and help me pick this thing back up. You'll feel better when its sitting in the dumpster out back."

He wasn't going to argue with Tom anymore. It was obvious the other man thought Brian was nuts. The sooner this thing was gone, the better. Picking up the legs, Brian planned to wrestle this thing out to the garbage as fast as they were able.

"Hang on a minute," Tom laughed now as he backed the rest of the way down the hall with his end of the demon rabbit. "I can't move that fast."

It took a bit of finagling and they were forced to call Samuel out to help, but they finally got the damned thing into the pine green dumpster behind the building. There was the satisfying sound of boards and drywall and masonry snapping and clattering as the animatronic settled into place. By this time tomorrow, it would be nothing but pile of rusted metal condensed down to the size of a small suitcase. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough for Brian.

He took a deep breath, feeling better already.

"So," Tom began, slapping Brian on the shoulder, "I don't suppose your new girlfriend blew you any kisses before we dumped it, did it?"

Brian glared darkly at the older man before turning and stomping his way back to the building.

"Should I tell Janet that she might have some competition?" Tom called after him.

"Screw you," Brian yelled back over his shoulder.

"Think I'll pass on that, buddy; I love my wife. Besides," Tom laughed, "I wouldn't want your bunny-friend to get jealous." When he caught his breath, he reminded Brian. "Oh hey! Don't forget to clean up that puke in there . . . And my hat, too, while you're at it."

Brian hunched his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets, wondering if this job was really worth all the crap he knew would be coming his way during the next few days. He shoved his way past a confused Samuel and back into the building.

"My hard hat better be smelling like Irish Spring by the end of the day!" Tom's voice drifted in behind him.

He sighed. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

 **Happy Halloween folks! Here's a little update to celebrate this spooky holiday! Poor Brian . . .**

 **Reviews please! Love to hear opinions and feedback! :)**


	5. Dumpster Diving

**Whoo! Finally got the next chapter out! It has been a while! Hope you all get a good laugh! ;)**

* * *

Madeleine gripped the furry, cheetah-print cover on her steering wheel as she eyed the building in front of her suspiciously. A small part of her was afraid to enter after her 'experience' last night. The fear relieved her, however. It meant there was still part of her that could be considered 'sane'. Despite Dr. Sigmund's assurances that she was ready to take on the big, bad world outside, Madeleine always worried that it was too soon. Worse, that she'd never be ready.

Entering the world had meant foster care and, she shuddered here, high school, and that reality had been difficult enough. Now, she had hallucinations to contend with – large, hulking hallucinations of murderous robotic rabbits with rotten fur that smelled of death and decay. Maddie scoffed, shaking her head. She was being ridiculous. There had to be an explanation for what she saw the previous night and her new meds were very likely it. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, after all.

Madeleine pursed her lips, shoving those memories back down into the dungeon where she stashed every ugly memory she didn't want to deal with. Memories that she refused to share, even with Dr. Sigmund.

No, her meds had to be the culprit, and her altered brain chemistry and the stress of this renovation had her mind deciding to produce delusions upon seeing that broken-down animatronic rabbit in the safe room. Obviously, somewhere in her subconscious she was afraid of taking on such a big project, and it was tormenting her by creating a hallucination that would prevent her from completing her goal.

Well, it wouldn't work. Maddie wouldn't let it. She was stronger than this. _I am woman_ ; _hear me roar_ . . . Of course, she could handle this, she told herself, and anything else life threw at her. She wasn't a little girl anymore. No victims here. No siree, Bob!

Sighing, Maddie slumped back against her cheetah-print seat covers, glancing over at her purse. Dr. Sigmund was just a phone call away. She could talk to him and he could write her a different prescription . . . Only, it wouldn't actually work out that way. If she admitted to seeing a giant rabbit that chased her with murderous intent, he would insist she return for a few weeks, weeks she could ill afford being away from her project.

No, she could handle this on her own. She already figured out what the problem was and that was the hard part. She would probably be nervous about her new business venture until she got the place up and running, so the hallucinations would continue, but that didn't mean that she couldn't just ignore them.

 _Oh, who am I kidding?_ Madeleine asked herself. _I've never been able to ignore any hallucination._

She frowned as she considered the trouble. Maybe she didn't have to ignore it. She had all kinds of experience taking over her dreams. Therapy sessions had taught her that much, giving her a certain amount of relief from nightmares. Maybe now, those lessons could help her take control of the 'waking dreams' brought on by her 'Don't-Be-Crazy' medication.

Perhaps later, when she had most of the renovations completed and the building was livable, she would give Dr. Sigmund a call. Just not right now when she couldn't spare the time.

Maddie jumped when her cell phone buzzed in her purse. She leaned over the armrest to rummage through her bag, bypassing the bricks she hadn't bothered to remove from the other night, retrieving her phone from the hidden inner pocket. Reading the text, she rolled her eyes. It was just another complaint text from Roger. Supposedly, she had left a wet spot in the bathroom when she took her shower this morning and he'd slipped on it, "nearly busting my head on the sink," he whined.

 _Well_ _ **I**_ _nearly got strangled by a deranged, blood-thirsty rabbit. Top that, you big wimp!_ She nearly replied. Madeleine snorted, tossing her phone back into her purse.

She hadn't uttered a single word to Roger about what happened to her the previous night. Despite what her psychiatric profile said, Maddie _wasn't_ crazy. She knew, without a doubt, he wouldn't have taken it well. The man was the most closed-minded, straight-laced person she ever met. He would have likely insisted she finish the demolition project and demand to sell the lot, _then,_ he would shove her medications in her face and call Dr. Sigmund himself.

Determination filling her, Madeleine yanked her keys from the ignition and slid out of her car, picking up her purse with her 'secret weapon' inside from the passenger seat.

Putting the whole "creepy rabbit didn't exist" decision, out of her head, Madeleine was pragmatic, preferring to err on the side of caution. Just in case her hallucinations weren't _really_ hallucinations after all . . . Maddie patted the bulge in her handbag confidently, smiling. She came prepared.

Closing the car door with a bump of her hip, Maddie locked it up, and made her way to the back entrance. Spotting four cars parked on the other side of the lot, telling her that seven of her construction workers were already here. Drat, they were here earlier than she had expected. Madeleine hoped Turtle wouldn't spook them. Already she had lost a couple of inspectors that had caught sight of him just lying around in the hallways. He had already freaked out the city's building inspector.

She needed to be smart about this. She needed to be stealthy. She had no idea if Turtle had killed her crew and was lying in wait for her to get here. Maddie shook her head. No . . . He was a hallucination. She was _almost_ sure of it.

Despite this, Madeleine leaned her ear to the old metal door, listening for any sounds of chaos. To her relief, there was none. She pressed her back against the brick wall, reaching out with one hand to push open the door then palmed her weapon.

She couldn't hear the sounds of construction from here. Did that mean that the rabbit had succeeded in killing everyone? Or was everyone working in the lobby? She might not be able to hear them from here. Better to be cautious. The blasted bunny had been intent on her demise last night. He would learn she was no easy victim. She had come prepared.

She slipped silently through the back door and made her way to the safe room door. A quick glance in told her that the mechanized rabbit wasn't back in his usual spot.

 _Was he still in the room with the tables and chairs_? Could he still be stuck on his back even now, hours later? Madeleine's lips twitched in amusement at the memory of psycho-rabbit's impersonation of a turtle last night. Her smile faded when she considered the possibility that he could be up and actively hunting/murdering her construction crew, however.

Clinging to the wall, Maddie peered into rooms as she made her way toward the sounds of construction. It could be the crew working on the lobby, but . . . what if the sounds she heard were actually the rabbit pounding skulls or dismembering the crew with their own power tools?

 _Would he eat them_?

 _Nah_ , she decided, immediately tossing that idea aside. He was a machine. Machines don't eat. _Although_ , she thought, _it_ _ **would**_ _explain the smell of death that seemed to follow him around_.

The workers were scheduled to open up the ceiling in the new lobby to create the grand entry and concession area that she adored, just like the ones in the grand theaters of the Hollywood era. Her plans, however, would include a game room as well, so kids could have a place to hang out after school and between movie showings. Maddie was anxious to see the progress made, but a part of her was afraid she would be walking into a massacre.

The fear brought unwelcome memories and Maddie quickly squashed them back in the box in the back of her mind. She didn't go there – ever! This was different, she told herself. She was different, no longer a child, no longer helpless. She cocked her weapon, ready for anything.

Peering around the doorframe, Maddie discovered that her tormentor was missing from here as well. So, he _had_ managed to get himself up off his back after all. That meant he could be anywhere in the building. Her nose crinkled. It smelled even worse in here than it had last night, like vomit. _Ugh_! _Would that smell ever go away_?

Ignoring the odor as best she could, Maddie tried to think of where an animatronic that large could hide. Not many places now that so many walls had been pulled down and most of the demolished material had been discarded.

A loud bang interrupted her thoughts, followed by a shrill masculine scream.

 _The rabbit_! She knew it! Without her around to distract the robot, he was attacking her construction crew.

Maddie crossed the room, zig-zagging around all the fallen tables and chairs as fast as she could to reach the door that she had escaped through the night before. Kicking the door open, Maddie entered the room with a yell, squeezing rounds of water from her Super-Soaker water gun in every direction.

The chattering from her workers ceased what they were doing, turning to stare at her in question. Madeleine spun around, searching for the enemy, slowing only when it was obvious the animatronic wasn't there. She noted one of the men was standing over the cooler holding ice on his thumb.

"Uhm, Ms. Ward? Are you alright? Can I help you find something?" The worker named Tom asked her.

Maddie sighed, lowering her water gun. "I – um, I heard a scream," she muttered lamely. "I thought that . . . Oh, never mind."

Tom nodded. "That would have been Jerry. He hit his thumb with his hammer. Just a minor accident, nothing to worry about," he assured her.

"Oh, okay," she smiled, "That's good to know." She waved at the injured Jerry. "How's your thumb?"

Jerry returned the smile uncertainly as he watched the client tuck the water gun back into her bag. "I'll live. Thanks."

"Ms. Ward? Can I help you?" Tom asked politely.

"Well, as a matter of fact," she said, "I'm looking for Turtle. I haven't been able to find him anywhere."

Tom's bushy brown eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "A . . . turtle?" He glanced around the room as if he might spot the errant reptile. "Uh, no ma'am. I haven't seen any turtles about. How 'bout you fellas? See any turtles?"

A chorus of 'no's' sounded out from around the room.

Suddenly, Maddie laughed. "Oh, sorry. He's not a real turtle. That's just the name I gave him. What I meant was that I'm looking for the animatronic that we found in the safe room the other day. He's not there anymore."

The man's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "The animatronic . . .?"

"Yes. He stands about so tall," Madeleine told him, standing on her tiptoes and holding her hand up as high as she could reach. "Kind of a yellowish-green with holes all over the place. Half of one of his ears is missing and he has an eye hanging out of its socket. Smells like a dead squirrel. I had planned to fix him up and make him into a kind of mascot for the place, but I can't seem to find him anywhere." A lock of dark-golden hair slipped out of the messy bun she wore, falling into her eyes. Maddie blew it out of her eyes as she waited for Tom to respond.

"Ooooh?" Tom's eyes widened and he glanced nervously at one of the men Maddie knew was named Brian.

"You wouldn't happen to have seen him anywhere, would you? He's kind of hard to miss."

Tom shrugged a shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "I, um . . . might have seen him."

Her eyes widened. "You did? Did you see which way he went?"

Tom's face scrunched in confusion. "What? Oh, he had a little help . . . Going, I mean."

"So, it was you who helped him up." Madeleine determined. That made sense. He couldn't get up on his own when she left him last night.

"You could say that," Tom cleared his throat.

Maddie grinned at him. "I just did."

"What?" he looked at her, confused.

"Say that," she clarified.

He snorted, amused despite the surreal feeling to this conversation. "Well, come on, then. Follow me if you want to see where your rabbit robot went."

He led the way back outside to the dumpster where he and Brian had thrown the rabbit. Tom glanced at Maddie, trying to judge her reaction from her expression, but she just stared at the rusted green dumpster looking more confused than he felt.

". . . I don't get it," she said after a long moment of silence.

"Yeah, well, you see . . ." he began.

"No, not really." Madeleine blurted.

Chuckling, Tom took off his helmet, running a hand over his bald head. "One of the crew members and I stumbled upon it when we got here and well, it was just so beat up . . ." he shrugged, feeling awkward under her gaze. "We just kind of assumed it was just part of the trash," he admitted, then burst out, "If we had known you'd wanted the thing, I swear, we wouldn't have touched it."

"He." Madeleine corrected.

"Excuse me?"

"He's not an 'it.' He's a 'he'," she explained.

Tom peered over the edge of the dumpster at the scrap of metal in question. "Huh. So, how can you tell?"

It was Maddie's turn to snort as she rolled her eyes. "I looked at his little robot bits."

Tom frowned. "Really?" He couldn't help looking. "I don't recall seeing any of those."

She laughed at him. "I was _kidding_. Now, do you think you can help me get him out of there?"

"Oh, yeah," he chuckled along with her hesitantly. "It's . . . Um, I mean, _he's_ a bit heavy. I'm going to need to get a couple of the guys to help me."

"Well, don't just stand there. Go grab someone!" Madeleine shooed him towards the door.

Although, he didn't exactly run, Tom hurried away with enough speed to satisfy her. As soon as he disappeared through the door, Maddie turned back to the dumpster and set her bag on the ground. She was too short to see without climbing the side of the dumpster and she really wanted to see for herself.

It took a bit more upper body strength than she realized she would need. Madeleine grunted as she gripped the lip of the metal bin, her pink work boots scrambling along the sides, marking up the green paint with streaks of dirt and dust from the site. _I'm bottom heavy_ , she thought disgustedly as she hauled her upper body over the edge. _Time to diet_.

The smell hit her first even before her eyes spotted bits and pieces that was her animatronic rabbit. It did tend to make one's eyes water, she decided, blinking the tears away. She spotted two metal arms and a rusted metal leg peeking out from beneath layers of old drywall, chunks of plaster, and rotting insulation. Apparently, the building hadn't been in much better shape than robo-bunny. An empty bucket of spackle covered most of his head with only the broken eye and good ear in view.

"So, there you are," Maddie said, removing the bucket and tossing it aside. Gypsum powder coated his dingy, mottled fur and was caked in his empty eye socket. _Cleanup was going to be a real bother_ , she thought with a sigh.

"Still in one piece, are you?" she muttered, assessing the damage. "Although, just barely. If I had any brains, I'd leave you here. You'd better appreciate all the trouble you're putting me through. You hardly deserve being rescued, though, after the hard time you gave me last night."

 _Huh_? _No answer_. Was he being stubborn, or had she hallucinated the conversation they'd had yesterday? _Some conversation . . . The dumb bunny had done nothing but issue threats_.

"Are you pouting, or can you really not talk?" she asked.

The lights in his eyes were out, she noted. He must have shut down at some point. Glancing at the empty doorway first – she didn't want the crew to overhear this – Maddie leaned closer. She used his ear to turn the rabbit's head to face her.

"Okay, let's make this clear, you know? Just so you understand . . . This was _so_ _ **not**_ my fault!" she told him firmly. "So, don't go blaming me later."

She dropped back down to the ground just as help arrived. Tom pushed open the back door, Dale and Mac in tow. Dale ran his eyes over her appreciatively, making Maddie feel the urge to shower. She ignored him as Mac stepped up beside her, frowning.

"Having a bad day?" she asked lightly.

"Not yet," he commented. "But, I must say that I was kind of hoping you had come to your senses and decided to finally get rid of that thing," he commented. He rocked back on his heels, his thumbs hooked on his toolbelt casually as he assessed the situation.

Maddie smiled serenely. "You know better than that."

Mac snorted with laughter, shaking his head. "I do now, ma'am. Now then, let's see if we can't haul that rusted hunk of bolts back out of there for you."

Dale grinned, winking at her as he stepped up to the dumpster. "Always happy to help, little lady," he said, hoisting himself up and over the edge. When he dropped into the bin, it was with a gasp.

"Holy hell in a handbasket!" Dale yelped. He leaned over the side of the dumpster and heaved. It was followed by the sound of his breakfast splattering as it hit the pavement. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Language!" Maddie and Mac snapped simultaneously.

Dale's flirty attitude was nowhere to be seen anymore. "Are you serious about dragging this rotting corpse back into the building?"

Mac frowned. "It's not a rotting corpse. It's a mechanical rabbit. Although, by the smell of it, I'd say he might have a number of critters decomposing inside its torso."

Tom cleared his throat. "Him."

Mac glared at him. "What?"

Tom glanced at Madeleine, then shrugged. "It's a _him_. Leastwise, that's according to the boss lady."

Madeleine sniffed the air daintily. "It's a little rank, but it's not _that_ bad. I would have thought, being in this business, you'd have smelled a lot worse."

Dale stared at her in disbelief. "Not that bad?"

She shrugged. "It's fixable. I'll take care of it later. Now, can you _please_ get him out of there?"

Mac tilted his hardhat back on his head and shoved his hands into some heavy-duty gloves. "You heard the lady. Get moving. We've got a sh- oh, um, I mean, truckload of stuff to get done today," he told them. Then, in one smooth move, Mac grabbed the rim of the dumpster and swung himself over. The sound of coughing floated out.

"It does tend to make your eyes water, doesn't it?" he remarked, repeating Maddie's thoughts from earlier.

She laughed. "You'll get used to it," she promised.

Tom groaned as he climbed in and positioned himself next. "It smells worse now than it did earlier when we hauled it out here."

"That's because the temperature's rising," Mac told him as he tossed the last of the trash to the side and grabbed an arm. "The heat makes the smell worse."

Dale turned his head and heaved, but there was nothing left in his stomach. Wiping his mouth, he leaned down to grip the animatronic's side. "Can we just hurry. Feeling a little lightheaded here."

"On the count of three," he called out. "One . . . Two . . . Three!"

There was a squeal as metal scraped upon metal, then Turtle appeared to hover a few seconds before he fell to the pavement with a crash. Maddie leapt out of the way with a yelp as the trio of men climbed out afterwards.

"Sorry about that, ma'am," Mac apologized. "I should have brought another couple of my men out to help. Didn't realize how heavy this thing . . . um, he was. Gotta be a good four hundred – five hundred pounds or so." He looked at Madeleine. "You didn't get hurt when it fell, did you?"

"No. You missed me," she said as she kneeled beside the rabbit to check for damage. "I hope you guys didn't break anything."

Dale stretched his back. "Nah. I'm good."

Madeleine looked at him strangely. "I was talking about Turtle," she corrected him.

Mac looked confused. "Turtle?"

"The rabbit," she clarified as if he should have figured that out himself.

"You named the rabbit . . . Turtle?" Dale gaped at her, stopping only when Tom elbowed him in the side. "Ow . . . What? It's a fu- . . . ah, freaking bunny rabbit! Now, skunk, I could understand."

"Shut up and grab a limb," Tom muttered.

Maddie ran ahead to hold the door for them as the three men groaned about the weight.

"Where do you want this thing?" Mac grunted as they passed by.

"Back to the safe room," Madeleine told them.

She slipped past them to lead the way, moving anything in their path out of the way and finally opening the safe room door for them.

"In here. You can prop him against that wall over there," she instructed, pointing to a spot that didn't block her access to the shelves that lined the walls or the door.

Last thing she needed was to trip over him every time she needed in here. Maddie didn't think Turtle would be so helpful as to move himself out of the way for her. She smirked. It was more than likely the rotten rabbit would do his best to make life difficult for her.

She hesitated, wondering if things would be easier if she just allowed Mac and the others to toss him out. She watched them stretch and moan after setting the heavy weight where she had indicated and decided that maybe now wouldn't be a good time to change her mind. Turtle would just have to learn how to behave himself. They had several months of construction ahead of them yet. She could always give him the old heave-ho if he continued to be a nuisance.

And, nothing was a bigger nuisance than when it was trying to kill you.

"So, what do you want us to do with him when we get in here?" Tom asked.

"Work around him." Maddie smiled. Thanking them for their time, she waited patiently until they left the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, she turned back toward Turtle.

He sat there unmoving, sagging against the wall, head hanging at an angle, jaw slack. Much as he had been when she had first found him. Just an inanimate object, a broken toy.

 _A smelly, broken toy_ . . . she allowed, wrinkling her nose. Ah, well. Like she told the others, that was fixable. It would probably be the easiest fix to manage, all considering. She pursed her lips as she eyed the metal rabbit for a long moment. After a while, Madeleine kicked his leg.

"So . . . You just going to sit there like a bump on a log or what?"

Nothing. No reaction.

She squatted next to him. "Really? This is the way you want to play it, huh? The silent treatment?"

Maddie waved a hand in front of Turtle's good eye.

"Hey! I'm right here," she snapped. "I'm in reach." Madeleine picked up his hand and placed it on her shoulder. As soon as she let go, it slipped off, clattering as it fell to the concrete floor at her feet. "Gah! You could have strangled me right then and you blew it!"

She tensed, waiting for the light to return to his eye, preparing to throw herself towards safety the moment it moved . . . When nothing happened, she sighed.

"Look. It wasn't my fault. _I_ didn't throw you out. As a matter of fact, I just saved your rusted butt from being crushed and sold for scrap metal. If anything, you owe _me_!" she told him, grumpy that he was taking this so hard. "It was an _accident_! I swear, I wouldn't have let them do it. There's no reason for you to pout about it . . ."

Maybe, last night really _was_ a hallucination, after all?

Switching position because squatting was making her thighs burn, Madeleine swiveled around and sat on Turtle's leg. _Silly rabbit might as well make himself useful_ . . . She scowled as she examined his eyeball where it dangled from its wires. Maddie reached up, brushing free the gypsum powder in the socket and studied the problem.

"Okay," she murmured. "I see how this works."

Threading the wires back through the space in the socket, Madeleine popped the eye back into place with a click. She jiggled it, checking to see if the eye fit properly. It was a little loose, she thought. Could fall out again with a bit of prodding. She could see a dent along the edge of the socket that was contributing to the poor fit. If she smoothed that dent out, that would make the eye fit more securely.

"There you go. Better now?" she asked softly. "It's not permanent," she explained, "but I can bring some of my tools from home and make so it is."

Standing up, Maddie dusted the gypsum dust and dirt from her clothes. "No need to thank me," she smirked. "No, really. I mean it. You don't have to say anything."

He didn't.

Biting her lip, Maddie stepped back and considered the animatronic. Just this morning she had been worried about him, wondering if he were going to go on some kind of murderous rampage and kill her and the crew. Now, however . . . The place seemed kind of quiet without the rabbit's angry bellowing. Was she disappointed that he wasn't actually alive?

 _Maybe a little_ , she found herself admitting silently.

"I've got to leave now and go back to work. We're going to be opening up the ceiling in the lobby all the way to the roofline tomorrow. It's going to be amazing and very grand when it's done. If you give it half a chance, I think you'll like what I'm doing here," she told him as she backed towards the door. "As for the eye . . ." she began, her voice taking on a warning tone, "Try to kill me again, and next time it comes out, it's staying out. So, you think about that while you sit here, sulking."

She opened the door. "See you later. Try to stay out of the dumpsters in the meantime. Next time, I might not be here to save you."

She winked at him as she left.


	6. Temper Temper

**So happy to finally get another chapter out! I know it has been a long time since the last update but I hope it was worth the wait. Also, I wanted to remind people that this is an AU cobbled together from different theories with a little of my own flair thrown in. So, if some rules (like Springtraps day and nighttime hours) are not canonly correct, it's because it's to better suit the plot. But, with that out of the way, enjoy!**

 **Warning: Language, Violence**

* * *

The clock struck six – finally – and with his daytime mode officially over, Springtrap bolted upright from where his animatronic body had been slumped. Right where those damned construction workers had dumped him after dragging his mechanical butt out of the trash. For the last twelve hours, he had been trapped inside of his head, paralyzed from his curse and the blasted daytime setting of his suit, seething in fury like a bomb on the verge of exploding. Freed at last, his pent-up ire burst from his voice box in a roar . . . The demonic sound echoed throughout the building.

* * *

"You know this place is supposed to be haunted, right? Did you know that? Le-fucking-gitimately haunted!"

Madeleine paused in her work, frowning. The construction workers didn't realize she was right around the corner from where they were packing up their tools for the day. Obviously, since they were cursing - all of them knew she hated foul language.

"Language, man! You're going to get us laid off," the worker named Brian grumbled. "I can believe it, though. Did you see that creepy robot rabbit the boss-lady had us drag back inside?"

Madeleine finished shoving the debris into the large plastic trashcan and pulled off her gloves. She took her new fuchsia hardhat off long enough to wipe her forehead with her sleeve. She was exhausted and looked forward to nothing more than relaxing her sore muscles in a scalding-hot bubble bath, dreams of club sandwiches dancing in front of her eyes.

 _Not much longer_. She checked her watch. _Almost six o'clock_. She shoved her gloves into the back pockets of her jeans and dusted off the front of her sweatshirt. She could get one of the guys to drag it out to the dumpster for her on their way out. She still needed to move the rest of those tables and chairs out because they were going to finish opening the wall up tomorrow before pulling down the ceiling.

She was excited for that. The lobby would make a truly grand entrance once they vaulted the ceiling in there. Where she was standing would be a concession stand that linked to the kitchen next door. Nobody would be thinking about murders or hauntings when they saw her dreams complete.

"I heard them say that a bunch of kids were murdered here back when this place was a restaurant. Some even had this theory that the murderer stuffed the kids' bodies inside the animatronics and that was why they couldn't be found." Sam was saying.

"Ew, gross," Brian complained.

Maddie peered around the corner at the two men. She agreed with Brian. _Ew_.

"That explains the stench that had the health department shutting the place down," Sam continued.

Brian stretched his back. "Who's 'they'?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, waving a hand in the air. "You know . . . ' _they_ ': Police reports, news articles, theorists – ' _they_ '!"

"Police reports?" Brian snorted in disbelief. "You're so full of shi- . . . uh," he hesitated, glancing around to see Madeleine leaning against the wall, watching them. "It," he finished lamely. "You're full of it."

Maddie smirked and turned to grab a broom. There was still a lot of nails, insulation, and broken bits of drywall lying about she could clean up. It wasn't her job. Mac had given up trying to keep her away from the construction, but she liked helping. It felt like she was taking an active part in bringing her dreams for this place to life.

Sam didn't seem to care that Maddie was there. He ignored Brian's accusation and continued. "It's the truth! Look it up if you don't believe me. I heard that the spirits of those children still haunt this place, searching for the man who had murdered them, so they can have their revenge."

At this, Madeleine rolled her eyes. "Oh, for Pete's sake," she muttered, exasperated. _Is this how people amused themselves_? If anyone had reason to believe in ghosts it was her, but Dr. Sigmund had told her the idea of ghosts was ridiculous. It was a crazy idea and, if there was one thing Maddie _wasn't_ , it was crazy.

The building was well over thirty years old. Of course, it made noises. It was just the place settling. Loose nails and the wind whistling through empty halls and broken windows . . .

Thoughts of her rabbit buddy sprang to mind, making her pause. But he was still stashed away in the safe room, exactly where she had placed him that morning. He hadn't moved – She knew because she had looked in on him several times throughout the day. He hadn't said anything either because she had tried to talk to him, and he had remained stubbornly silent.

Then again, he might still be angry that she had allowed the men to throw him out, although he didn't look the type to hold a grudge. She snorted to herself. Actually, yes, he did but, apparently, she had become adjusted to her medication enough that her hallucinations had deserted her.

 _Good_ , she thought. _I'm way too busy to be dealing with angry, uptight hallucinations, anyway_.

"You're not a Boy Scout anymore, Sam," Brian blurted, annoyed. "Keep your campfire stories to yourself." Yet, he glanced behind him, just in case.

Seeing that his co-worker was getting creeped out despite his bravado, Sam grinned. "What about that guy who died here all those months ago, hm? I hear quite a few had disappeared after spending the night here. I certainly wouldn't want to stay here overnight," he told the younger man. "Hey, look at the time! It's getting late."

"Shut up, jackass," Brian snapped. He gulped and threw a look at Madeleine. "Um, sorry, ma'am," he apologized before swinging back around toward Sam. "We're not security guards, dummy. It's time to go home."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, before the boogieman comes out to get you." He reached out to poke the younger man. "Don't fall asleep, my precious."

Brian jumped in spite of himself. He shoved Sam away. "Get a life, dude!"

Maddie bent down to sweep the pile she had into the dustpan when a scream tore through the building, sending a chill down her spine.

"AAAARRRGGGHHH!"

Startled, Madeleine jumped up and spun around, expecting to find her hallucination standing in the entrance to the lobby. No one was there except Brian and Samuel, both men looking pale and panicked.

"What the hell was _that_?" Sam exclaimed, forgetting Maddie's rules on swearing.

"Oh, good," she smiled, relieved. "You guys heard it, too." Odd, but knowing she hadn't been the only one made her feel better. The men gaped at her, however, and her smile faded away. "What?"

Instead of answering her, they took off, leaving the lobby door swinging in their wake. The little dust cloud they left behind reminded her a little of the coyote/roadrunner cartoons she and the other residents used to watch back at the home. She sighed. Those had been some good times.

"Was it something I said?" she asked the empty room.

Shaking her head, Madeleine turned back to the mess still waiting to be taken out. Oh well, the sooner she got to work, the sooner she could take that nice, warm, bubble bath she had been daydreaming of.

* * *

Springtrap's little tantrum lasted only a minute, but when it was done, he was feeling better. From the room, now silent, he could hear the faint sound of voices nearby. Creaking as he climbed to his feet, he limped over to the door and cracked it open. It was silent now, but it didn't matter. There were _people_ in here and that was all he needed to know.

Anxious to squeeze the life out of something after the annoying day he had had, Springtrap stepped out into what felt like was an entirely new building. Forgetting his rage in his shock, he gaped at the change with a mixture of both horror and amazement. The old, rotting, trashy hallways had been completely ripped apart to reveal a massive barren space with only a few remaining supports to remind him of the old claustrophobic halls and cramped rooms. The new space lent the impression of freedom, something Springtrap hadn't experienced in decades nor hoped to ever feel again.

A sudden urge to go see what else had been accomplished washed over him. Were all the hallways like this now, spacious and roomy? He spun about in place marveling at how different it all felt when he stopped, shaking his head vigorously.

 _No_! he reminded himself _. This had been done before. Never to this extent, true, but it was still just part of the cycle -_ _a big, fucking, endless cycle._ _This place is cursed_!

Everything that came in here ended up dying in here - most often by _his_ hand. Even so, this building, this land, all of it was cursed. Anything that touched it would eventually be corrupted by it. The only solution he could think of to stop it was to destroy it, to raze it down to the ground and burn the dirt upon which it sat.

 _Why will they not destroy it?_

Frustrated and angry now, Springtrap ignored the changes as he limped down the hall, following the direction he had determined that the voices came. They had long since stopped talking. He began to wonder if the people had all gone when another sound caught his attention. Not a voice this time, not exactly . . . It was high-pitched and rhythmic. He searched his spotty memory for its like. Where had he heard it before?

 _Whistling_?

Someone was whistling.

Curious, Springtrap continued toward the mesmerizing tune. The frozen joint in his right leg, caused by a lucky shot from a security guard's handgun, caused it to drag somewhat when he walked. So, when his foot caught on some fallen debris looked over by the workers, it hindered his progress even more than usual.

 _Clomp, shuffle, clomp, shuffle_.

He sounded like a crippled-up, old woman in a pair of house slippers as he moved down the hall. He would have grimaced had he been able. This was hardly the image he wanted to project. The thought darkened his mood even more.

Admittedly, that he could walk at all with the foot, itself held on by only a few sturdy wires, was something of a mystery. Unfortunately, it had prevented him from capturing that infuriating blonde the other night. At least his eye was back in place. He wondered why she would bother doing that for him . . .

Well, he could always ask her about it while he was strangling the life out of her.

He spotted a light near the end of the hall. It was coming from the party room – or what used to be the party room. He stopped along the way to gape briefly at the sheer size of the new lobby. Had he been alive and still had use of his lungs, Springtrap might have even gasped. Numerous walls from the front room had been removed and the ceiling held up by several strategically placed supports. For all intents and purposes, however, the area that had once comprised three separate rooms was now one enormous space. It would make for a grand entry, indeed . . .

He might have forgotten her for the moment, distracted by the room as he was, but the whistling pulled him back into the present and reminded him of his purpose. The whistling was coming from the party room, the same room he had found her during the previous evening. He peered around the door frame just as the whistling stopped.

There she was. He watched the woman continue her work, bobbing along in time to a song only she could hear, her broom acting the part of her dance partner. He looked around for evidence of others, but it appeared that she alone remained.

 _My lucky day_ , he decided.

A sense of excitement mingled with his ever-present anger. Springtrap sank back into the shadows. Tonight, he determined, would end with the mechanical sound of _his_ laughter. He would paint the floor red with her blood.

* * *

Madeline emptied the dustpan into the plastic garbage bin, setting it and the broom aside. Sighing, she wiped her hands on her jeans and pulled her earbuds out of her ears. It was only then that she heard the buzzing of her cellphone.

Walking over to the corner where she had stashed her belongings, Maddie rummaged around until she located the annoying device. Who'd be calling her at this hour, she wondered. It wasn't as if she knew all that many people in this town yet. How could she when she spent ten to twelve-hour days working on the remodel of her dream. She looked at the screen, frustrated.

 _Roger_ . . .

{Did U 4get dinner? Bad enough I don't C U in the AM, now U 4get 2 come home N PM?}

Peeved, Maddie texted back. {2 much work 2 do. U want 2 help?}

Was it too much to ask for a little support? Roger had grumped about this place since she bought it. Too much of her money, too much of her time. He always found something to complain about. Her phone buzzed with his answer. She smirked.

{UR Nuts! Stop at bank. Need $ 2MORO. Car N shop.}

 _Again_? Roger seemed to see her as a bottomless ATM machine.

{What happened 2 the $ I gave U?}

{Country club dues. Needed NU golf clubs.}

She tossed the phone back in her bag, annoyed. She didn't even go to the country club, nor did she play golf, eat gourmet lunches, or take tennis lessons, but every month since meeting Roger, she paid dues so that _he_ could.

Madeline began moving the folded tables into the hallway for easier removal in the morning. They were worn and wobbly, and how many folding tables did a classic movie theater need anyway? None, that's how many. She had planned to just stack and leave them for the workers to take out in the morning, but no longer looking forward to going home, Maddie decided she might as well take care of it now.

She was almost finished with the task when the lights flickered and dimmed. Frowning, Maddie glanced up at the bare bulbs dangling from exposed wiring. They would be taking them out tomorrow before tearing down the ceiling, and the sooner, the better she thought from the looks of it.

So much for taking the tables out on her own. She was wondering whether she should pull a flashlight out of her bag when the lights went out altogether.

"What the heck?" She yanked out her earbuds and the tinny sounds of 'Boogie Wonderland by Earth, Wind, & Fire' drifted out. With the intention of checking the light switch for a short, Maddie yelped when her shin collided against the edge of one of the last remaining tables. She didn't see it there as her eyes fought to adjust to the sudden darkness.

"Ow! Ow! OW! Son of a bean eater!" She cried out. Grabbing her throbbing shin, she hopped awkwardly in what she hoped was the direction of the light switch.

Reaching the wall, Maddie flicked the switch up and down with no results. "Are you serious?" She huffed angrily. "Oh, those poo-heads are going to be hearing from _me_ tomorrow. And they call themselves electricians . . ."

Grumbling, Madeleine hobbled back to her purse for the flashlight. Finding her phone first, she decided it'd work just as well at helping her locate the fuse box. Mac had pointed out the box's location to her just the other day. Maddie paused as, in the feeble light of her cell, she noticed a familiar figure standing in the doorway.

So, her little bunny friend finally came out to play. His eyes were glowing red, making the walls of the room appear almost hellish with its gruesome lighting. Maddie glanced over at her bag, calculating her odds of reaching it before the animatronic could reach her.

Abruptly, the room was plunged back into darkness as the red light and her phone's light both blinked out simultaneously. Spinning about, she fumbled to get the phone back on only to discover she was alone once more. Heart hammering, adrenaline pumping, Maddie backed up, watching for the rabbit as she dug into her bag with her free hand.

Despite the ominous feel the evening had taken, she wasn't afraid. Part of her believed she should be, but the rest of her was feeling anticipation for the showdown that lay ahead of her. No, she was ready for him this time. There would be no running away, no screaming – at least not on her part, she decided with a smirk.

"I know you're still here," she murmured, slowly turning about in a circle as she searched the shadows for the nettlesome rabbit. Silence greeted her.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Madeleine sang into the darkness.

There was a scrape of metal against rusted metal behind her. Maddie jerked around but no red eyes stared back at her. How could something as large as a four-hundred-pound automaton hide so efficiently? Not even an ear popped up from behind the various cafeteria-style tables or spare panels of drywall that were stacked on one side of the room.

"Show yourself, you, hunk of junk. What are you? A turtle or a chicken?" Maddie taunted. She hoisted her secret weapon, making clucking noises at the cluttered room.

The light from her phone went out again and she quickly hit one of the buttons to activate it again. She caught a flash of the sickly yellow-green color from the corner of her peripheral vision as the screen illuminated the room once more, but when she turned her head, nothing was there.

"What kind of hallucination are you?" Madeleine complained, annoyed. "Why are you hiding from me?"

"I'm not hiding." The voice came from behind her.

Madeleine dropped her phone on the floor as she twisted about, bringing her weapon up between them. The eyes, no longer red but green, stared at it with something akin to incredulity. Not bad considering its limited range of expressions.

"Do you really think a gun is capable of stopping me?" He gestured to the bullet holes in his chest. "You have no idea what I am."

Maddie answered by pumping the weapon in preparation of firing. If he thought she could be intimidated, he would be wrong.

* * *

 _It's time to let her know what I'm made of_ , Springtrap decided, reaching up to his head.

He took hold of his lower jaw while the other hand pushed back the top of the robotic head. With a creak the two parts separated, opening the mouth abnormally wide and revealing the decomposing skull inside. The jaw was dangling, held together by a decaying strip of flesh still stubbornly clinging to the bones of the face. Wires could be seen running through the mouth that disappeared into the top of the skull. The green animatronic eyes stared out of the otherwise empty sockets. A few strands of course hair was all that remained on the scalp, mixing incongruously with small bits of wire poking between the seams of the bones.

The woman looked a little startled at first sight, but then she hesitated. Squinting, she leaned forward to peer more closely at the macabre vision.

"Whoa, would you look at that? Is that . . .? Nah, that can't be real!" She muttered more to herself than to him. "So, wow . . . like, how did you get that in there?"

Okay, so that wasn't the reaction he had been hoping for. Springtrap stared in disbelief as the crazed woman leaned in with her finger extended. Was she going to try to touch his corpse? _Who_ is _this woman anyway_?

"What material were they using?" she asked curiously.

Springtrap snapped the head closed over his skull in irritation. She jerked her hand back, her fingers barely missed getting caught by the aluminum jaw.

"Hey!" she yelped in annoyance. "That was rude."

"Yeah, well, trying to touch my rotting corpse is rude, too," he snapped at her. "It's just like trying to look up somebody's skirt."

"So, quit lifting up your dress if you don't like people looking," the woman retorted with infuriating calm.

"Why the hell aren't you frightened?" he demanded to know. "Anyone else would have been terrified."

Blondie blinked. "Am I supposed to be?"

"Hell, yes," he yelled, slamming his fist against the wall. The table that had been propped against it slid onto the concrete floor with a bang, causing Maddie to jump. "You're supposed to be sickened by what you saw."

"Oh. Well, the workmanship is pretty good, but I've seen better special effects in B-rated movies," Blondie told him. "Besides, I know what a dead body is supposed to look like. Yours really isn't all that 'ew', if you know what I mean."

Springtrap's eyes flickered from green to red. He raised his hands in her direction, his fingers twitching with the need to strangle her. "Do you have any idea how much I want to kill you right now?"

The woman smirked. "I have an idea, yeah. I tend to get that reaction from a lot of people."

The robot lunged suddenly, and Maddie leapt back even as she raised her gun and squeezed the trigger. Water blasted out of the end of the barrel with enough force to cause a spray of sparks to erupt from his head and chest. His voice box gurgled as Maddie quickly sidestepped out of the way of his reaching arms as he stumbled past her and into one of the remaining folding tables. The table proved no match as the rabbit fell through it, crashing to the floor in a rain of bent metal and particleboard.

Madeleine didn't stick around to watch this time. Shouldering her Super Soaker CPS 2000, she turned to run towards the lobby when a metal vise clamped around her ankle. She grunted as she hit, her water cannon skidded across the floor just beyond of her reach. Scrabbling at it with her fingers, she caught the shoulder strap even as the sparking animatronic pulled her back with a death grip on her boot.

As the burbling, water-logged bunny crawled over her, Madeleine rolled over on her back, planting her boots on the robot's torso. She was grinning as she brought the powerful water gun up between them.

"Drink this, fluffernutter!" she shouted with suitably dramatic flair.

From this close range, the water jetted out, hitting the same eye she had only just put back into place earlier that day. It popped out for a second time, and the light inside it flickered briefly as it shorted out. Maddie shoved the rabbit to the side with her legs with a groan of effort, scrambling away the moment she was free.

Victorious, Maddie climbed to her feet and spun around to shoot at him a third time only to discover the rabbit right behind her. The furiously sparking bunny swung a giant paw at her, smacking the water cannon out of her hands. She watched it arc across the room and skitter beneath one of the remaining tables.

Turning back to her attacker, Madeleine smiled nervously. "Heh, sorry about that eye, buddy."

A staticky roar was her only warning. Quick reflexes allowed Maddie to duck the wildly swinging arm, and it smashed a hole in the ancient drywall instead of her head. Blinking in wonder at the carnage the animatronic had left behind, a lightbulb went off inside her brain.

 _Why wait for tomorrow to finish in here_? she decided.

Madeleine had learned over the course of her young life that to maintain her fragile sanity, she had to always search for that silver lining wherever she might find it – and brother, she'd had to look in some pretty cruddy places for it. Some of those times, she had been forced to squint to see it, but it had never failed to appear. Right now, that lining was in the shape of an extremely scruffy-looking rabbit.

She backed up a couple of steps but carefully remaining within range of the seething hallucination.

Holding a hand out and rubbing her fingers together, Maddie whistled for her assailant to follow. "Here, boy," she called sweetly. "Come this way."

The remaining eye flashed red and the rampaging rabbit charged in her direction. Maddie waited until the last second before leaping to the side. A cloud of drywall dust filled the air. Coughing, she waved it away, and noted with satisfaction the large hole left behind by the robot. A single red light shone through the darkness as the animatronic turned in her direction.

 _That's the way_ , she thought happily. _We still have more room to go_. What she said, however, was "You missed!"

Another roar followed as the robot charged a second time, taking out another large section of wall that had been marked for demolition. Maddie squealed as she darted toward another part of the room that had to go. The heavy clomps were closing in on her when she threw her body out of the way. As she had suspected, the robot couldn't stop on a dime and it slammed through more drywall and wood.

She couldn't help grinning. He was better than a wrecking ball. At this rate, they would have the room cleared in an hour. Then, the light from her discarded phone went out.

"Well, shoot," she muttered.

It was tricky, but the rabbit had been willing, bounding after her every time she made a noise. Without light, Maddie had to be careful not to corner herself before setting the angry animatronic on another rampage. She couldn't see much more than the outlines of things – well, that and the one red eye from her rusty companion. The eye illuminated a small space right in front of him and enabled her to time her movements just enough to avoid being squished into jelly by its owner.

Rolling out of the way, ducking beneath outstretched arms, or between metal legs, Madeleine kept up until her hand landed on a familiarly-shaped object. Her phone! Activating it, Maddie looked around her with satisfaction. With only a few supports remaining, most of the walls of the room and its leftover contents had been demolished. Wouldn't Mac and the boys be surprised tomorrow?

Spotting her bag and the water cannon where they had been kicked into a corner, Madeleine trotted over to retrieve them. A crunching sound of a heavy metal foot stepping on a piece of shredded drywall was her only warning, Maddie dropped to her knees just as the forgotten rabbit reached for her. She covered her head with her arms as he overbalanced and fell over her crouching figure. The resulting noise of his crash into the floor set her ears ringing.

She scrambled to her feet as the robotic head swung towards her. "Why are you so angry?" she blurted.

"Why don't you just fucking die already?" he answered with a question of his own, struggling for the hundredth time to his feet.

Maddie frowned as she backed up. "Language!"

The animatronic roared as he charged at her again. Maddie feinted left and then moved right, but the crusty rabbit was ready for her. His arm shot out, his hand grazing her cheek as she attempted to dodge.

"I was close that time," he said, looking down at a few strands of the woman's hair stuck in the joints of his fingers. "Next time, I'm going to pop your fucking skull like a grape."

He turned around to locate his prey when a folding metal chair slammed into his face with a resounding clang that echoed throughout the hollowed building.

"I said to – watch – your - LANGUAGE!" Madeleine shouted as she hit him again and then, again.

It was the animatronic's turn to back up. His damaged foot caught on some of the debris and he went down on his back like a ton of bricks. He attempted to roll to his side but like the night before, he was stuck.

"Damn you!" he cursed at her.

The rabbit discovered Maddie's temper then when she narrowed her eyes at him and flung the now-broken metal chair at him. It ricocheted off his face and skittered across the floor out of reach. Good thing, or he might have flung it back at her. She blew the stray pieces of hair out of her face that came loose from her ponytail during the course of the evening and, using her phone once more, headed off to find the fuse box.

It took a moment, but Maddie found another broom. She was starting over, with the debris worse than it was in the beginning but, with the walls gone, it was worth it. And, eventually, she even located her missing iPod.

"Man, you don't know how lucky you are," she murmured conversationally to her captured audience. "I spent weeks putting together the perfect playlist for remodeling buildings."

With music once again booming in her ears, Maddie resumed her cleanup duties. Working around the stranded bunny in the center of the room, she was careful to stay out of his reach. His curses unheard and humming happily, she swept and discarded trash over the next hour.

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Madeleine turned on the camera to inspect her appearance. The red mark from her close call could just be seen beneath the dust decorating her cheek, but the dirt still managed to cover the scar she had there rather nicely, she noted happily. Maddie tucked the free strands behind her ear and headed back to retrieve her belongings. Other than dust, the contents appeared undamaged. She picked up her water cannon. It was decidedly less helpful to her than she had hoped it would be, but Maddie already had an idea in mind for its replacement.

 _The nutty rabbit won't know what hit him_ , she snickered to herself. Madeleine turned to face her adversary to find him glaring at her with his one eye.

"Don't look at me," she scolded him. "I told you to stop cursing."

"Fuck off," the rabbit growled at her, venom in his eye.

Madeleine pulled her earbud out of one ear. "Sorry. I didn't catch that," she smiled down at him.

Making a sound remarkedly like a snarl, he tried for the thousandth time to regain his feet. Unsuccessful again, he settled back and banged his head against the exposed concrete.

"I just want to thank you for your assistance tonight, Turtle," she told him cheerfully. "I think we might even be ahead of schedule now." Obviously, frustrated, the rabbit refused to look at her now, glaring instead at the ceiling as he seethed inside his metal skin.

Picking up the rest of her belongings, Maddie slipped through the large open area into the new lobby/concession area as she headed for the door. It was nearly one o'clock in the morning and she planned to be here by eight. Her hunger long forgotten, she wanted nothing more than a shower and her bed.

"I HATE YOU!" the stranded bunny roared after her.

"I hate you, too, Turtle," she waved goodbye as she opened the door leading out to front. "I was thinking we could work on the kitchen tomorrow night. I want to move it to the other side of the building. You have a good night now, you hear?"

With any luck, when she returned in the morning, she would discover that the activities of the evening hadn't been merely the results of a bad prescription and her overactive imagination. She smiled as she left, feeling as if she had accomplished something.

* * *

The door closed behind her, leaving Springtrap alone with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company.

"I hate her . . ." he muttered into the darkness.

* * *

 **Reviews are appreciated! Would love to hear back from some of you! :)**


	7. It's Raining Men

**Warning: Graphic Images, Language**

* * *

"So, if we take down the ceiling and raise it to the roof line, the room will look a lot larger and you will have that grand feeling you're looking for."

Madeleine nodded, not needing Mac's explanations in order to envision the beautiful results. Not that they had much of a choice. To tell the truth, the ceiling looked about ready to collapse without needing their help.

"That sounds fabulous. When can you get started on that?"

"Right now."

Mac nodded to Sam who was dragging in a ladder and his toolbox with him. Thanks to Turtle's help, they were ahead of schedule and moving on to the most exciting part of the project so far. The place was now a blank canvas with which she could unleash her creativity.

Mac and Maddie watched from the sidelines as Sam climbed up on the ladder, armed with a sledgehammer until he was directly beneath the large brown stain in the ceiling. With the amount of rot throughout the building, she never gave much thought to the condition of the ceiling. Now that she had noticed it, however, the size of the stain seemed a bit disconcerting.

She tapped Mac on the shoulder. His head tilted toward her as they watched his man. She pointed out the stain. "Hey Mac, do we need to be worried about that?"

Mac shrugged. "Most likely from water damage. No surprise really, considering the state this place is in. Won't know the cause of it until we get through."

"It's sagging." She noted.

"No worries. We'll fix whatever caused it. I'm kind of surprised that it hadn't collapsed before now," He said conversationally as he gnawed on his chewing tobacco. When he spit on the floor, she jumped back.

"Oh, sorry," he muttered. "I'll grab an empty soda can"

"I'll forgive you this time," she told him, "but only because I'm in such a good mood."

He shook his head, amused. "I still can't believe you managed to take down all those walls last night by yourself."

Maddie smiled. "Oh, I wasn't by myself."

"No?" Mac asked, but he was distracted by the action going on in front of him.

Sam punched a hole in the ceiling with the sledgehammer before handing it over to Lauren. "You all might want to take a step back. It won't take much to bring this all down." he told them. Then, reaching up with both gloved hands, Sam began pulling down large pieces of rotting particle board.

Plaster and wood dust rained down around him, coating him and the floor beneath him with a layer of white. It reminded Madeleine of snow falling - until the dust made her sneeze. Mac handed her a mask to protect her lungs as he donned his own.

"What the h-he-eck?" Sam yelped. Startled, he barely remembered to curb his inclination to curse. "There's a bunch of stuff stored up in here."

Mac waved him away as he wrapped a chain around the last support. "Get out of there," he said. "We'll lose the support and bring the whole thing down. We can haul it all out of here after that."

Propping the front doors open, Mac attached the chain to one of trucks and pulled the support right out of the floor. Without the post, the rest of the ceiling caved in, pouring insulation, plywood, and rotting 2x4s into the center of the room. As the dust cleared, however, they discovered more than just the 2x4s rotting in the pile of debris.

Madeleine and the crew gaped in silent horror at remains of a host of decomposing human corpses, all of them dressed in security guard uniforms blackened with old blood. The faces were slacked jawed in death and the ones with eyes remaining stared back at them as if they were just as surprised as the living at what had occurred. Between the bodies, a multitude of pests emerged in a panic and with them, an eyewatering, stomach-turning stench akin to rotten eggs and manure that had been left out in the summer sun for a few days.

But, oh, so much worse.

The mask she wore over her mouth and nose did nothing to abate the smell. From across the room Dale choked in the effort to keep his lunch down while Lauren ran out of the room gagging.

"Holy fuck! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! What the fuck is that? Holy shit!" Brian shouted hysterically. He waved his arms wildly, pointing as he exclaimed as he stumbled away from the bodies.

Sam clamped a hand over the younger man's mouth to end his cursing.

"Language, good buddy," he murmured in Brian's ear as he struggled to calm him. It wasn't working out very well what with the tangle of wood, drywall, and mangled limbs strewn about in that pile.

"Wow," Mac mumbled, his chewing no longer audible. "That's a _lot_ of bodies."

Madeleine tried counting the bodies but stopped shortly after reaching double digits. Some were in pieces and there was no telling from here how many victims there really were. _Who could have done something like this_? _All those poor people_! There was only one suspect that came to mind, however, and fury rose up in her swift and hot.

"THAT DADGUM RABBIT!" Maddie screeched.

Mac startled at her outburst, "Um, do you mean dagnabbit?"

"No." She growled out between clenched teeth. "I meant what I said."

 _Easy. Calm down. You're okay,_ Maddie repeated this mantra in her head a few times. _This is no time to lose your cool. Remember what Dr. Sigmund said, 'If you don't control your temper, your temper will control you'_ Closing her eyes, Madeleine tried the deep-breathing exercises Dr. Sigmund had showed her back when she had first met him. The exercise might have been more effective had she not been able to smell . . .

Mac scowled down at the dusting of a red-brown flakes coating everything. "What is that? Dried blood?" he guessed aloud.

 _Oh gracious_ . . . "One. Two. Three. Four. Five. . ."

"What are you doing, now?" Mac glanced over at her.

"I'm counting." She informed Mac. Dr. Sigmund had instructed her to do this whenever she was beginning to feel stressed out . . . "Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten." Deciding she was calm enough; Maddie opened her eyes. Although the bodies were still there, as was the need to take a bat to a certain animatronic that was sitting in the storage room, she thought she could control it.

"Sooo," She said with a sigh. "I'm guessing this is going to put us behind schedule again, isn't it?"

Mac raised an eyebrow at the woman. "Yeah. I think we can say that."

"Fine," she said, trying not to pout. "I suppose this is what one should expect when one attempts to renovate old buildings. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have a phone call to make."

* * *

When Madeleine finished her call with the police, she gently placed the phone back into her purse like the sensible woman she was. Her calm demeanor didn't last, however, and she hurled her purse into the wall with a snarl. She stomped out of her soon-to-be office and straight into the safe room where the men had moved Turtle that morning.

The door banged loudly against the wall when she shoved it open, the sound reverberating down the hall. Her eyes homed in on the one object in the virtually empty space. The robotic bunny sat in its corner looking innocuous and innocent of all wrongdoing. To the uneducated observer it seemed as lifeless as the bodies that covered the floor of her lobby, but Madeleine knew better.

The robo-rabbit didn't bother to look at her as she approached, but that only accomplished in infuriating her all the more.

"Don't you dare ignore me, you lousy rabbit! I know you can hear me," she snapped.

The clang of the metal toe of her work boots connecting violently against Turtle's leg echoed against the concrete block walls. It didn't react, didn't move at all.

"Answer me, darn you!" she shrieked in anger.

It didn't. Of course, it didn't. The stupid robot was trying to make her look foolish, but she knew – she _knew_ he was responsible for that pile of death. He thought this would stop the theater from becoming a reality. It was right there in his beady, little, robotic eyes - his laughter. Why he was keeping it to himself? Well, it didn't matter. It would take more than this to derail Maddie's dreams.

"You think this is funny, don't 'cha?" Maddie jabbed a finger into his chest plate. "I _know_ what you did. Might as well fess up."

She waited for a reaction, something - a twitch, a snicker, his eyes to light up like they did the night before. Anything! She was fully expecting him to gloat; he'd seemed like the gloating kind, but instead he sat there imitating an inanimate object.

"Really? The silent treatment, huh?" Madeleine narrowed her eyes. "Well then, let's see how much you laugh after I get through with you."

* * *

Christopher Wright, or Detective Wright as of this moment, grimaced at the smell emanating from the pile of corpses in the center of the construction zone. The mask he wore did nothing to provide relief. He pulled it off and dropped it in one of the many plastic bins sitting about the place.

He wasn't a squeamish man. You couldn't work in homicide without developing a strong stomach. He lit a cigarette, letting the smoke drift out of his nose, burning the smell of rotting human corpses out of his sinuses. He had promised his wife he would stop with the cancer sticks, but they were much more effective at hiding the stench than the mask had been.

He scowled at the sight of dozens of dead bodies. Forensics were busy now picking through the rubble and separating the bodies out, laying them on sheets of plastic, putting a few of them together like pieces of a puzzle. Out of those, some were _still_ missing pieces. _God_! He had never seen such a gruesome massacre as this and knew this scene would follow him into his nightmares for years to come.

Fifty-seven bodies, the forensics guys thought. At a glance, they said the victims appeared to be all male, most of them Caucasian, and _all_ of them security guards. Wright looked at the case file he held in his hand. It was a thick mother that held various details of numerous other reports, all missing persons, all of them cold cases.

 _Numerous_ , he snorted. Fifty-seven fucking missing persons was a damned crowd. _Looks like they're not missing anymore._ This was not the kind of closure he wanted to give to these men's families . . .

That wasn't all there was, however, in the history of this cursed building. A few decades back, there was an arrest of a murderer of a group of five children. Only for the case to be reopened a couple years later due to newfound evidence that ended up creating enough doubt that it secured the release of the perpetrator. Whether or not that guy was the actual killer and had gotten off lucky remained an unknown. Wright was, however, going to look the guy up – for old times' sake – just to see what he had been up to on the fifty-seven nights that these security guards went missing.

The original murderer had chosen to kill children. Unless he changed his MO, it seemed as though they had an entirely different serial killer stalking the city. _What was with all the crazies being attracted to this site, though?_ Wright had a working theory that the killer was using the building's haunted reputation to keep folks away. Unfortunately for him, the new owner's renovation had uncovered the killer's lair.

Wright pulled out his little pocket notebook and opened it to his list of suspects. He had several officers checking out the construction workers while he had listened to their version of what had happened. He had called up two of the building's previous owners, now retirees for four or five decades, and made appointments to speak with each of them.

Who was left? Detective Wright scrolled through the list to the building's newest owner, Madeleine Ward. While he had trouble believing a woman could be responsible for this, he couldn't cross her out without questioning her first. A woman serial killer wouldn't have been the craziest thing he had seen during his years on the force, but the amount of raw physical power that was necessary to tear grown men's limbs from their bodies was greater than any normal woman could muster. Hell! He couldn't think there could be very many men out there that might have that sort of brute strength either.

Returning his notebook back into his pocket, Wright wandered off in search of Ms. Ward.

"I don't recommend walking through this place without a hardhat, officer," a voice said from behind him.

"That would be detective," Wright corrected as he looked the fellow up and down. "Mr. MacGregor, I presume?" He held out a hand to shake only for the foreman to shove a yellow hardhat into it. Wright stuck it on his head. It was a little big and shifted over his eyes, forcing him to push it back out of his way. "Uh, thanks."

"Mac is just fine." The foreman turned to him, his eyes looking tired and wary. "And, you're welcome. I already gave my statement to the other detective that's running around here."

This guy looked burly enough to do some damage. The detective's eyes dropped down to the claw hammer on the man's hip before moving back up to his face.

"That would be Detective Sawyer. That's fine. I was actually hoping you could tell me where I might find the owner of this property . . . Ah, a Ms. Madeleine Ward? I heard tell she was here when this" Wright waved at the chaos that was supposed to be the new lobby, "all came down. I imagine she's all shook up."

"Not the word I'd use," Mac shrugged.

"Really? What word would you use, then?" he asked, curious. Most women he knew would be at the ER getting prescribed some valium after witnessing something like this. He reached in his pocket for his car keys.

"Fury," one of the construction workers blurted out as he walked by.

Mac sighed. "Sam . . . Why don't you and the others head on home when the officers are done with you. I've got this." He turned back to Wright, pausing to spit tobacco juice in a paper cup. "I'd say 'outrage' would be more like it. Now then, the last I saw of Ms. Ward, she had been heading back toward her office in order to give you guys a call. She tends to like to lock up each night herself, so I doubt that she's left yet."

"She'd stick around after something like this?"

Mac snorted. "This place is her baby. She'll not leave until she has to. Just follow the hall in that direction," he pointed to the left. "It'll be all the way down and on your right. I can show you if you like. This place can be a bit of maze if you don't know your way around."

Wright gave an amused smile. "I think I can find my way, thanks. You might as well tell your boys to take the rest of the week off. This is going to take a few days."

Mac whistled, grimacing. "She ain't going to like that," he muttered. "Good luck, detective," Mac told him as he turned to give the word to his crew.

Wright moved off down the hall. It didn't take more than two turns when he understood the foreman's remark wasn't an exaggeration. This place, even torn apart as it was currently, was indeed a maze. But it was the other remarks made by him and the other men about their absentee boss that intrigued him. Not your typical female, he was concluding, and he found himself eager to see if his assumptions about her were correct.

He found a room he determined would have been designated as the office space finally. Flipping the light switch, the only thing the detective found in the empty space was a cheetah-print ladies' handbag lying in the middle of the room. Frowning, Wright kneeled beside the bag as he reached into his pocket for a pair of latex gloves. Carefully, he opened the bag enough to peer inside. He found a phone, a matching cheetah-print wallet, and a set of keys along with some bits and pieces of female toiletries. Wherever she was, Wright didn't think she would have left the premises voluntarily without her belongings.

The sound of shouting brought his head up sharply. Definitely feminine and most definitely angry. Remembering what the foreman said about Ward's anger over the delay in renovations, he leapt to his feet in anticipation. Loud metallic banging alternated with those sharp furious yelling.

Could it be possible that Ward knew the killer and was foolishly confronting him?

Wright pulled his gun out. Whatever was happening, he felt there was a very good chance he would need to intervene. He peeked out of the office doorway into the hall. Several officers were arriving on scene as well, having been drawn here by the noises. They lined the hall outside of a heavy metal security door. The exit sign illuminated the door to the outside. What the hell was this door containing? A safe? Something else?

His partner, fellow detective, Joshua Sawyer, pushed his way to the front of the line, his own weapon drawn. He met Wright's eyes and nodded in the direction of the door.

 _You want to take lead_?

The two had been partners for close to eight years. They could practically read one another's minds in situations like this. Wright nodded and moved to the other side of the door. He waved a command at the other officers to stand ready. Sawyer reached out with one hand and touched the door handle. _Unlocked_ . . . No need for a battering ram. That was good because from the sound of things, having to wait for the ram might be too late for whomever was being assaulted inside the room.

Wright tried to understand the words he was hearing but the voice was muffled by the heavy metal of the door.

 _CLANG_!

There was no mistaking that sound. Something metal just hit the concrete blocks that made up the interior walls of this 'safe room'.

Madeleine Ward's voice didn't sound like a woman in distress, however. Whatever violence was occurring sounded like she was likely the cause of it. Enough – Time to stop whatever was going on and rescue whoever was taking the brunt of Ms. Ward's temper.

Sawyer saw his decision in his eyes and turned the handle, cracking the door slightly. The furious muffled sounds instantly became recognizable.

"YOU ARE DETERMINED TO RUIN THIS FOR ME, AREN'T YOU!"

When there wasn't an immediate reaction to the door's movements, Wright waved for Sawyer to push it the rest of the way open. Guns drawn and ready, the two detectives stepped into the room and to either side of the doorway to open a path for the other officers backing them up. No one was prepared for what they found, however and several weapons wavered as a result.

"I AM SO GOING TO KICK YOUR UGLY, RUSTED METAL BEHIND FOR THIS!" The woman shrieked.

 _BANG! BANG! CLANG!_

Wright and the others winced at the unhindered sound of metal slamming repeatedly into the wall.

"YOU'RE MORE TROUBLE THEN YOU'RE WORTH!" the woman continued screaming into the face of . . . of . . . "I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU IN THAT TRASH BIN! I SHOULD HAVE LET THEM DUMP YOU IN THAT TRASH COMPACTOR AND SQUISH YOU INTO A CUBE!

Wright rubbed his eyes with one hand. Was he seeing what he was seeing?

 _BANG! CLANG!_

 _"I COULD USE YOU FOR AN END TABLE," she screeched, "AT LEAST THEN YOU WOULD HAVE BEEN USEFUL INSTEAD OF CAUSING ME NO END OF HEADACHES!"_

Madeleine Ward, Wright assumed, was currently sitting straddled across the lap of a rusted, rotting, animatronic as she shrieked and slammed its robotic head into the wall behind it. One of the ears was quirked off kilter, one of the eyes had fallen out of the socket and was bouncing wildly from a couple of wires. All in all, it looked as if it was ready to fall apart any second – and that was without the added abuse Madeleine Ward was heaping upon it.

"SAY SOMETHING, DARN YOU! I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!"

"What the fuck's wrong with her?" Sawyer whispered at him.

The Ward woman's head snapped around in response, although Wright didn't know how she could have heard anything after all that banging. His ears were still ringing. The absolute rage in her eyes made him raise his gun back into position.

Wright cleared his throat. "I don't know if that thing can hear you or not, but I assure you the rest of the neighborhood can."

The fury bled out of her face so quickly, he blinked. The woman's expression morphed into a bright, friendly smile the moment their presence registered in her brain.

 _Sweet_ . . . he thought amazed. She looked sweet and innocent with a gentle, disarming smile. No one, by looking at her now, would ever suspect this woman of the sort of violence he had just witnessed. He was hesitant to lower his gun, but there was no law out there that prevented the woman from destroying her own property.

"Oh, hello," Madeleine greeted them with delight. She let go of the rabbit's head only for it to fall loudly one last time into the concrete blocks at its back. "Were you boys looking for me? If I had known that, I would have come out to greet you."

"Uh, right, about that . . ." Wright reluctantly returned his gun to the holster under his jacket. "Is, um, everything okay in here - Ms. Ward, I'm presuming?"

"You want that I should call for a paramedic?" Sawyer whispered.

"Oh no," Ms. Ward laughed lightly. "He's fine." She reached back blindly, patting the broken and battered robot on its nose. "Everything's fine. Not to worry. We're all quite alright in here."

"Or perhaps a therapist might be a better idea?" Sawyer asked in a quiet aside.

Not quietly enough, apparently. "Oh, don't bother. I have a therapist. His name's Dr. Sigmund." Ms. Ward announced breezily.

Sawyer choked on his next comment, wisely deciding to keep it to himself.

"Not too fine, considering what you found in your attic space," Wright mentioned, watching the woman's reaction to his words.

Ms. Ward shook her head sadly. "No, no. It's not fine for them, poor souls."

"Indeed," Wright murmured. "I came looking for you, Ms. Ward, in order to ask you a few questions - If you don't mind, that is?"

Her face lit back up, the mournful look dropping away instantly. "Of course," she said. "Happy to oblige." She twisted around to face them but remained in place on the animatronic's lap. She placed her hands on her knees and looked at them inquiringly. "Okay, shoot."

Wright looked at the animatronic uneasily. The robot was emanating a pungent odor similar to the one in the lobby. He pointed in the direction of the hallway with his thumb. "Outside?"

"But, of course. I'll be out in a moment," she agreed.

Turning back to the robot, she took a moment to straighten its ear and popped the dangling eyeball back into its socket. The eye didn't appear to want to go for a minute, but Ms. Ward smacked it with the flat of her hand, and it moved back into place with a light crunch. She used the contraption to help herself to her feet and patted the concrete dust from her jeans.

Wright ran into a crowd of officers as he left the room. He had forgotten they were still here so caught up as he was in the surreal environment of the safe room. His confusion morphed into annoyance, and he snapped. "What does this look like, a side show? Get back to work!"

Although the officers broke it up immediately, it didn't take a fortune teller to know this scene was going to be retold repeatedly throughout the precinct in the coming weeks. There were times when cops resembled a gaggle of old women with their gossiping. Not what he needed to be dealing with on a case like this.

He grabbed Sawyer's arm. "Remind them this is an ongoing investigation and to keep this to themselves. Last thing anyone needs is the media getting wind of this."

"What do you think of this Ms. Ward?" Sawyer asked quietly. "Are you going to be okay handling Ms. Nutcase on your own? I can hang around back here, if you need me to."

Wright gave a wry smile. "I've got it covered," He said, patting the bulge under his jacket. "She won't get near me."

Sawyer laughed at the irreverent cop humor, appreciating the break in the neck-deep tension they had been wading through since walking through the front door into that grisly scene straight out of some horror flick. In this line of work, one had to develop a brand of dark humor in order to deal with some of the gruesome and often downright evil that they faced on a day-to-day basis. Giving a two-finger salute the other detective followed the rest of the officers back in the direction of the crime scene.

Wright tugged out his pen and notepad of suspects. Flipping it open, he circled Madeleine Ward's name several times over, scratching down a couple of fat, bold question marks beside it.

* * *

As soon as the two detectives left the room, Madeleine's cheerful smile twisted into a snarl. She spun around and leaned down into Turtle's face.

"You better watch yourself, buddy," Maddie whispered to him, waving two fingers back and forth between her eyes and him as she backed out of the room. "I'm keeping my eye on you."

The officer was waiting beside the exit door. "I don't think we've been properly introduced yet, Ms. Ward, isn't it? My name is Detective Wright."

"A pleasure, I'm sure," she said. "You can call me, Ms. Ward. Everybody does."

"I thought we might chat outside," Detective Wright said, pushing the door open to allow her to pass on their way out of the building.

"Oh, you mean _outside_ -outside," she clarified as she stepped out into the weak sunshine of the mid-September afternoon. She breathed deeply as she tipped her head up to the sky in appreciation. The breeze lifted the stray hair out of her face. "Yes, I'll admit, it smells much better out here."

The officer grunted, glancing back inside before letting the door close behind them. "Is there anything I should know about that robot?"

Maddie laughed and waved him away. "Oh, don't worry about Turtle. I'm certain I just need to change up my medication."

The detective's brow rose in response. "You take medications, Ms. Ward?"

"Every day. Dr. Sigmund prescribed them to me. He thought it would make transitioning easier."

"'Transitioning'?"

She smiled cheerfully. "That's right."

When nothing else was forthcoming, he prodded a little more. "Transitioning from what, if I may ask?"

"You may," Maddie told him.

He frowned. "I may – what?"

"You may ask." She took off her pink hardhat and pulled the band from her ponytail, shaking her hair out and running her fingers through it. "Ah, that's better. It feels good letting your hair down at the end of the day, doesn't it?"

Detective Wright frowned as he watched her, then shook his head. "Yeah, it sure does," he muttered in agreement despite the fact that his haircut was regulation Marine. "Er, what was I talking about?"

Maddie tossed her hair back one more time. "My medications."

"Okay, yeah, um, would you mind giving me a list of those medications and their prescribed dosage?"

"Not a problem. I keep a couple of lists in my purse. Remind me to give that to you when we're done here," she said.

He blinked. "You keep a list of your medications and dosage in your purse?"

She smiled and corrected him. "I keep two."

"I'll make a note of that," he said, flipping in his notebook to a new page. He scribbled something at the top of the page.

Maddie craned her neck but straightened when he looked back up at her.

"This won't take but a few minutes of your time, Ms. Ward. Now then, how long have you owned this building?" Wright asked her.

"Um, what day is it?"

"The fourteenth."

She waved that answer away. "No, no. I mean what _day_ is it?"

"Wednesday," he told her.

She nodded briskly. "A week."

"A week," he repeated, writing this down. "And, how long have you been living here?"

Madeleine laughed. "Oh, I don't live _here_! That would be silly. We're in the middle of a construction zone." She leaned in conspiratorially and winked. "Seriously, the dust would get everywhere."

Wright frowned at her, then taking a deep breath, clarified his question. "How long have you been living here – _in this town_?"

"What month is it?"

He glanced up at her from his notebook. "September."

She counted back on her fingers, then paused. "The year?"

One of his eyebrows inched upward. "Really?"

"Would I have asked?" she told him in the same fashion as his third-grade teacher, Mrs. McGurdy.

"2026," he said.

Then, it's been about a year and a half."

 _Scratch, scratch ._ . . went the pen.

"And, where were you living before this?"

"Santa Fe."

"New Mexico?"

"Is there more than one?" she asked, intrigued.

"Yeah," he nodded. "There is."

"New Mexico," she said with finality.

 _Scratch. Scratch._

Maddie eyed the notepad. What exactly was he writing down?

"Do you have family nearby or are they all back in Santa Fe?"

Madeleine caught her bottom lip between her teeth. "No family," she said a little hesitantly.

He glanced up from his notepad. "No? None? You hardly look old enough to be out on your own."

"I've lived in a couple of foster homes during my junior and senior years of high school. After that, I moved out on my own."

 _Scratch. Scratch_. _Scratch_.

He looked at her sympathetically. "Is that when you lost your family?"

"No," she answered briefly.

"Who were you living with before then?"

Madeleine shrugged. "I was living at the Tabula Rasa PRC."

 _Scratch. Scratch. Scratch_.

"PRC? What's that stand for?" He asked, frowning down at his notepad.

"It's a psychiatric rehabilitation center," she told him.

Lifting up on her toes, Maddie peered over his arm to see what he was writing. "No. It's not a psych ward," she corrected, pointing at the mistake on his pad. "It's a psychiatric rehabilitation center. You spell rehabilitation, r-e-h-a-b-i . . ."

"I know how to spell 'rehabilitation'," he interrupted her snappishly, pulling his notepad closer to his chest. "How old were you when you first moved there?"

Madeleine's mouth twisted. "Old enough."

There was an awkward silence before Detective Wright realized she wasn't going to answer him and let the topic go. "Very well." He could look this information up later back in his office. "What exactly do you do for a living, Ms. Ward?"

Maddie. "Currently, my job is renovating this building. That, and I've been taking care of my boyfriend for these last few months."

 _Scratch. Scratch_. He glanced up at her again. "You have a boyfriend?"

"His name is Roger," she told him. "Strickland."

The scratching halted. "How do you spell that?" Wright asked.

"Oho, _now_ you want me to spell something for you!" she smirked. "S-t-r-i-c-k-land."

 _Scratch. Scratch._ Went Roger's name.

"Why has he needed you to take care of him?"

Madeleine cleared her throat uncomfortably. When Detective Wright looked up at her again, she dropped her gaze. "Oh, um . . . He was in a tiny little car accident."

"That's too bad," Wright murmured. "Hope he's doing better."

"Are we about done here, Mr. Wright?" Maddie asked politely. "I have several more things I need to do before the day ends."

"That's _detective_ ," he corrected. "And, yes, that will be all for now, Ms. Ward. Thank you for your time."

She perked up, her earlier sunny smile back in place. "Thank you, Detective, and you can call me Madeleine."

He blinked, confused, as he tucked his notepad and pen away in his jacket's inner pocket. "Sure. Thank you, Madeleine."

"You're welcome," she told him. "It only seems fair, after all."

This only seemed to confuse him more. Detective Wright moved to open the back door only to see there was no handle on this side.

"It locks automatically from this side," she explained, waving at a path through piles of old construction material and equipment. "We have to walk around to the front."

As they made their way toward the parking area, she asked him, "Detective? Just how long do you think all this is going to take?"

"We'll let you know," he told her, tipping his fingers to a nonexistent hat. As she began to walk away, he called to her. "And, Madeleine . . ." he said, waiting until she turned to look back at him. "Don't leave town."

* * *

 **Would love to hear some reactions! :) Happy Memorial day everybody!  
**


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